


brush the sky

by catnipevergreen



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-20 20:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 72,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catnipevergreen/pseuds/catnipevergreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>And then when she starts singing about this innocent girl marrying her and turns to the front Rachel’s eyes are wide and she feels a buzz at the knowledge clearly no one has ever sung to (seduced) this girl like she is right now. It’s hilarious.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>It’s hot as hell.</i>
</p>
<p>Exploration of Cassie and Rachel's relationship; canon until Swan Song then heads off into AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story I felt needed to be told about Cassandra and Rachel, where their relationship is explored in detail. It starts running alongside the plot until Swan Song, and heads off into AU afterwards.

So.

She _just_ about makes it back to New York in time for the start of the new semester. Her one and only friend picks her up from the airport, smirking as she skulks across the airport in dark sunglasses, still slightly wobbly on her feet.

“Spain was as good to you as ever then?” he asks, taking the large suitcase from her as she rubs at her temple.

“Shut up, Lucian,” she replies in a scratchy voice, but lets him lean forward to kiss her cheek anyway. “Oh god I need coffee,” she groans, as they walk out of the airport together. It doesn’t even occur to her to try and hide her hangover from him – after all, what _else_ would he think she’s been doing in the south of Spain for a month, if not hiding from tourists, students and the summer auditions under a haze of alcohol?

“How was the city without me?” she asks as they’re cruising along the island on their way back to Manhattan.

“Delightful. Jonathan’s opening night went fabulously – even Coric gave him a good review.”

“ _Really_?” says Cassie in surprise, pulling a slightly amused face that doesn’t entirely cover the flicker of jealousy that passes over it. “I didn’t think that uptight bitch had anything good to say about _anyone_.” She goes back to staring out the car window.

It’s enough to put her in a bad mood for the rest of the weekend, as she angrily starts preparing for the start of classes. Her anger soon turns, as usual, to a bitter resignation, which is still hanging heavily on her come Monday morning.

Still, it’s a new year, and a new batch of naïve freshman to weed through in case _maybe_ , just maybe there’s one or two that are special. It happens every year, and each time adds further strength to her resolve that her teaching methods are her doing the right thing, pushing them until they break so they’ll perhaps be ready for the brutal battle they have to wage in the real world.

As soon as the students arrive and start dancing any brief optimism she has vanishes, because they’re all between nothing special to downright hopeless and _christ_ these first few weeks are fucking exasperating.

There’s a couple of new students that particularly look like she can enjoy taking a bite out of them to take the edge of the reawakened sting of regret and jealously that appears _every damn year_. A good quarter of the girls are overweight by her standards - when she spots one with an honest to god muffin-top she chuckles to herself, because that girl’s clearly not going to make it past the third week of classes.

There’s another who Cassie can’t help but notice as soon as she turns around from the piano because she’s throwing anxious glances in her direction every three seconds. She’s clearly terrified, about as out of place as a goose in a pond full of swans, and added to that she’s wearing a _pink_ skirt, christ.

She scans the crowd of students as they begin leaping across the room, barking out her first criticisms of the year; and she’s not being pointlessly vicious, however bad her mood is – these students are here to _learn_ , and she’s a damn good teacher.

As the goose-girl hurls herself past her, narrowly whacking her in the face until Cassie ducks out of the way, she notices with a pleased eye that at least the girl has a wonderful body, if only if wasn’t for that unfortunately large nose…

After a brief lecture in which she rams home to the students that most of them stand _no_ hopes of ever making it in the business and she is both richer and more fabulous than they will ever be, she zones in on her first victim. She’s actually a decent dancer, but Cassie needs to make it clear from the start she takes no prisoners, and no one else has any obvious, big imperfections so far.

Oh hang on – Cassie almost laughs out loud as she turns round to see a huge nose basically hitting her in the face, with that small goose attached to it. The girl rolls her eyes at what she misguidedly judges as cruelty, and Cassie smirks as the most beautiful excuse for an attack presents itself.

“Hold it.”

The music stops, and the girl looks unsuspectingly round to see who Cassie’s about to launch on next.

“I’m sorry,” she says blithely, pointing at the girl who realises with a start Cassie’s talking to _her_. A smirk forms on Cassie’s face as she continues, “Did my conversation with Muffin Top… offend you?” She shoots an almost questioning frown in the girls direction as she begins to circle her like prey (and really, she’s about to be eaten alive if the terrified look on her face is any indication), and the girl instantly drops to an innocent subservience.

“No!” she says breathlessly.

“What’s your name?” Cassie asks smoothly as she plays with her hair, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t being overly flirtatious because a) nothing like warming your prey up to you before you viciously strike, and b) the girl is pretty sexy up close, even with that nose.

She guesses instantly it’s a massive insecurity though, and adds, “Little Miss David Schwimmer,” even as she notices the gaudy ‘Rachel’ dangling from her throat. It’s not a question, and the girl quickly repeats it.

“I bet you were a biiig star back Iowa.”

“I’m actually from Ohio,” the girl corrects her hopefully and god has she not realised yet she needs to keep her mouth shut?

“Ohio!” Cassie smiles, and the girl nods eagerly. “That’s even worse,” Cassie continues dryly, because she knows fuck all about Ohio but that expression _needs_ to be wiped off the girl’s face.

“So did you come all the way to New York City to tell me how to run my class?” she asks sweetly.

“No, I came to learn,” the girl tells her, and _well –_ she basically asked for it.

“Ok,” says Cassie, turning away from her and swaggering away, because really, she’s done with this girl now. “Lesson number one. Your piqué turns are pathetic and your stuck-up little attitude is really pissing me off. Music!”

But then she sees the girls face form a steely look of resolve out of the corner of her eye and something in Cassie recognises that kind of determination instinctively, and knows she needs to be knocked down another peg.

So she zones in on the girl again even though the boy dancing next to her is about as turned out as a kangaroo, and maybe she enjoys yelling, “Higher! Higher!” at her a little too much, but it gets the result she was looking for. The girl just isn’t good enough, and falls to the floor.

Crouching down on the floor next to her to finish her off definitely isn’t necessary, but she wants to relish in the power she has over this painfully ambitious girl who is clearly used to teachers loving her. And then  with the utterly dejected look now plastered across the girls face, she’s definitely done with her for today.

 

*

Christ she’s forgotten how much she hates freshman, and wakes up in a fucking terrible mood when she remembers the class of bumbling fools she has to teach again. She wears her makeup heavier than usual, because it’s like war paint, and she just feels like she has something to prove today; to the world, to herself?

But it makes her late for class so she skips breakfast and makes her smoothie in the studio instead. She’s angrily tossing fruit into the blender when Benjy walks in, and he’s one of the few students she has the tiniest of attachments to. He was the weakest of the weak when he first arrived, and broke down sobbing at least once a class for the first semester; but he persevered, her methods worked and now he’s her TA.

Was.

“Oh stop it doesn’t matter!” she berates him kindly when he tries to play himself down, because he’s probably never going to be more than a flying monkey however much she pushes him and he deserves this bit of happiness. She drops in a little anecdote about her own first performance as if it was just yesterday, as if she’s still a real performer… and he’s still terrified and adoring of her so he laps it up.

She’s being honest when she says she’s proud of him, and shoots him a fond look as he hurries away to start his career.  But when she turns back to her breakfast suddenly everything feels so fucking _pointless_ , and the pain and regret and _humiliation_ that someone a tenth as talented as her can get cast when she’s laughed out the theatre rises up in her chest. She _needs_ to make it go away, and as she pours rum into the blender the pain turns into anger.

 

 *

 Her anger finds a home when she walks into her class to see that Rachel girl practising pitifully at the barre. She’s wearing a darker skirt today _thank the lord_ which her ass actually looks kinda cute in; maybe the alcohol’s gone to her head.

 “God almighty Schwimmer,” she says joyfully because this is just too _easy_. “Is it possible you’re getting worse?”

 She stops dancing, because she clearly hasn’t learnt Cassie just does _not_ care about whatever she has to say for herself. “I’ve been practicing a lot, I’ve just... had a little bit of a rough week,” Rachel tells her hesitantly.

“Aww,” Cassie replies mockingly, scanning her lesson plan because the rum’s definitely hitting her and she cannot remember for the life of her what she’s supposed to be teaching today. “You tired? You lonely? You _homesick_?” She doesn’t even have to turn round to know she’s hitting Rachel where it hurts, but she really does _not_ have time for whining when today has just been one big fucking reminder of how good these kids have it. “Well you better decide how bad you want it. Because this school’s filled with people who will do _whatever_ necessary to make it in this business.”

When Rachel rushes over to whine about Cassie picking on her she loses her temper because _honestly_ , she needs to learn when people are actually trying to _help_ her, as opposed to blindly encouraging her delusions about her own talent. From the stunned look on Rachel’s face she’s clearly offended _again_ , though.

“What’s your problem now?” Cassie sighs, scowling, but she’s really not expecting the response that follows:

“There’s just alcohol on your breath,” Rachel replies in a shocked tone, and _fuck._ The whole class has obviously been listening to this exchange and they’re now looking over in silence as Cassie thinks _fast_.

“It’s Listerine,” Cassie tells Rachel scathingly, but the thought of that stuck-up, un-talented little girl nearly humiliating her in front of her students and costing her _another_ career pushes her over the edge and she will _not_ let any of these students (that girl) think they can ever forget who she is and how _good_ she is.

“I might not be a wide-eyed ingénue anymore,” she tells them fiercely as she saunters round the classroom, “But I can still dance circles around any of you.” And with the alcohol buzzing through her system she jabs a finger at someone to start the music, and turns round to teach this girl a fucking lesson.

She smoulders round at her students as she begins to sing, and they all look suitably impressed. But when she turns to face Rachel she sees a look in the girl’s eyes that drives her wild, and fuck if she’s not going to try and seduce this girl just because she _can_. And from that moment on she’s performing for her.

She smirks to herself as she begins to clap, locking Rachel’s eyes with her own and then beginning to whirl around the dance floor with alcohol and adrenaline and something else rushing through her and she _knows_ how good she looks. She catches a glance across at Rachel as she’s dragged across the dance floor and it spurs her on even more.

And then when she starts singing about this innocent girl marrying her and turns to the front Rachel’s eyes are _wide_ and she feels a buzz at the knowledge clearly no one has ever sung to (seduced) this girl like she is right now. It’s fucking hilarious.

It’s fucking hot as hell.

She’s having the time of the life when they reach the chorus and maybe she loses a touch of finesse as she whirls her hair around and _loses_ herself in what she’s doing, but it works, because when she marches forward and kicks her leg high into the air the girl actually _closes her eyes_ and honestly has someone this gay never actually fucked a woman before?

She throws herself to the floor and crawls towards Rachel, letting her know _exactly_ what it would be like if Cassie did that to her. And then she throws in a few extra moves where she opens her legs as wide as possible, and jumps up and reaches towards Rachel and she’s pretty sure how turned on she is is plastered all over her face, because the girl looks terrified.

She completely disregards all of the other students and performs to Rachel alone, who is literally gripping onto the table as her teacher sings that she wants to be with her, the rolling of her hips telling her _exactly_ how. From the look in Rachel’s eyes she wants it too, and as she chants out, “Who cares what they’re gonna say?” she shoots a raunchy grin at Rachel and yeah this is a full-blown seduction now. And fuck if Rachel doesn’t look turned on by it, her innocent little face pouting at Cassie who leaps towards her and rolls her hips at her and pretty much leaves the rest of the class and the other dancers alone to shamelessly flaunt her sexuality at this girl until she’s left in no doubt that she _wants_ Cassie - because _that’s_ how good she is.

By the end of the dance Rachel is looking equally parts desperate and terrified that Cassie is about to jump on her any second, and stares at her almost expectantly for a few seconds as Cassie regains her breath. She’s overwhelmed by alcohol, adrenaline and lust and is basically about to lose it, so she forces herself to retain control for a single moment, snaps at Rachel, “You’re not just on my list, Schwimmer. You _are_ my list,” (because who, frankly, after that is left in any doubt that it was all about Rachel?) and sashays out of the class before she collapses, tries to jump her student, or both.

 

*

She can’t wait til she gets home (and it’s not like she hasn’t had sex in this office before) so she slams the door of her office behind her, locks it and rips off her soaked leotard before thrusting two fingers into herself _hard_. Another hand slides up to pluck at her nipple as a long groan rushes out of her throat, as if she’s been holding it in from the moment she started dancing. Her fingers move faster as images of Rachel’s stunned and undeniably turned on face rush through her mind, remembering how her eyes followed her round the dance floor, raking over her body at every move…

Her breathing becomes more erratic as her hips thrust to meet her fingers, curling to hit that spot right _there_ and the hand playing with her breast moves up to run angrily through her mussed hair. For a split-second a single clear thought of _what the fuck_ runs through her mind before she’s hit with an image of Rachel’s uncomprehendingly-aroused expression as she slowly lifted her head to look at Cassie and she’s pushed over the edge, a strangled cry emanating from her throat and it’s _such_ a good thing her office is tucked in a far corner of the building.

Her fingers slow to a stop as she leans, panting against the door, one hand thrown up behind her. She stares round at her office, coming down from her rush and laughing to herself as she realises one tiny, obnoxious and terribly naïve little girl caused this in her.

*

She successfully ignores Rachel for the first half of the lesson, because she is _not_ someone who likes to lose control, and doesn’t want Rachel to start thinking she’s in any way more special than she already thinks she is just because her dance teacher has a casual attraction towards her (and maybe got off three more times once she’d got home until her body had stopped trembling).

She’s in a slightly better mood than usual, though, after inducing such a blatant reaction from her dancing in such an uptight student and leaving the class in _no_ doubt of how good she is – and she caught Rachel practicing late after class the night before, so she decides to be fair.

“You, Miss Schwimmer, show me your piqué,” she says indifferently with a vague wave of her hand, but can’t help a small lick of her lips as she scans the girl’s round, round ass, which she definitely did _not_ think about last night.

She’s slightly less horrendous than earlier in the week though, so maybe she _has_ learnt to do what she’s told, and Cassie decides she deserves a little help. “Ok, give me another one. Centre yourself this time.”

And she does, so Cassie tells her in a reluctant tone, “That’s better, slightly,” nodding her head to the side in concession and what, disappointment that she’s beaten the girl down so easily?

“Are you gonna roll your eyes at me now?” she asks almost _kindly_ for her, because Rachel knowing who’s boss is _good_ for her, because then she can get _better_.

“No,” Rachel replies, and Cassie waits. And when she adds, “But I’m going to keep getting better until I’m the best you’ve ever seen,” Cassie turns round with a pout, and she _laughs_ because this game is apparently still _so_ on.

“Oh you’re mouthy! And you’ve got _guts!_ ” and all niceness is gone now because how can this barely acceptable dancer without any genuine talent _honestly_ think she can beat some of the once-in-a-lifetime students who have passed through Cassie’s class? “Good, I like it. I like that spirit in my students.” And she kind of wants to see how far she can push this girl, so she leans right into her personal space and she can almost _feel_ Rachel’s determination to not be turned on this time (and really, who does she think she’s kidding?)

“Because it’ll make it more _fun_ for me, when I’m making your every waking moment hell on earth.” She stays there for a moment, waiting to gauge Rachel’s reaction, and when she stands steely-faced, Cassie pulls back and smiles to herself, partly surprised and a little impressed that Rachel’s managed to find some self-control out of apparently nowhere, and partly at the thought of how much _fun_ she’s going to have with this girl.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But then she begins to sing, and as her admittedly charming voice rolls out the words 'it might seem like a crush' and she lifts her big brown eyes to smoulder at Cassie, it occurs to her that this is a seduction; and not just in the name of theatre, but of her, particularly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think it's possible to dance the Argentinian Tango to 'Everytime', but it was just too tempting when played alongside Cassandra and Rachel's conflicting dynamic, thus I kept it, so go with me.

So.

The term starts to get going and the next few weeks pass in their usual way. The weaklings are weeded out as they run from the class crying, leaving Cassie with a smattering of talent to actually teach. Schwimmer seems to have calmed down since her borderline public orgasm at Cassie’s performance, which is kinda boring, so she decides to push a few of her buttons, using her best arsenal available.

Sex.

“It’s all about _sex_ ,” she smoulders. She shoots a smirk at Rachel, waving her cane seductively in her direction, and the girl is so eager she looks like she’s about to melt on the spot. Whether it’s from determination to prove herself to Cassie or arousal, or both, she’s unsure; but either way Cassie’s got her desired result in Rachel _wanting_.

Rachel, though, is not someone who expresses her sexuality. Not knowingly, anyway, but Cassie can see it’s simmering underneath in every unconscious lick of her lips and widening of her eyes whenever Cassie does something _just_ so. And it’s not just her, either; she’s seen the way Rachel watches the other fine specimens of her class with something a little too intense to be called observation.

Rachel needs to learn to access that if she ever wants to captivate an audience, hold them in the cusp of her hand like Cassie knows how to do so well; like she’s doing right now with her. But Rachel is as Broadway sexy as a cabbage patch kid and her classmates know, and Cassie watches as they all quickly disperse even as she looks round hopefully at them with her innocent little face.

“Not you, Schwimmer,” she tells her, and, yeah, she’s trying to push her buttons as well (and maybe part of her wants Rachel to get so indignant she has to tango _with_ her...) when she adds, “Keep practicing those jazz hands back in the corner.” She turns away, lazily playing with her cane as she waits for Rachel to react and yep, there it is.

“Wait but- Miss July,” Rachel composes herself, and Cassie turns round, feigning interest. “I’m sorry, but if I’m ever going to play Evita I’m going to have to learn how to tango…”

Cassie ignores her deluded Evita comment and instead pretends to glance around the classroom, as if she didn’t already have every student filed away in her memory by nickname and weakness.

“We’re short of boys so a girl needs to sit out and…” she pauses, as if she’s trying to break some tragic news gently to Rachel, “You don’t have enough _sex appeal_ to pull off a credible tango,” she tells her quietly. She doesn’t want to humiliate her after all; she just wants her to rise to the challenge. “You’re awkward and tentative and you move your body like you’re _ashamed_ of it.”

She pulls a confused face at that last comment, because _no one_ should be ashamed of their body, especially not a performer; especially not someone as confident as Rachel.

She leaves it at that, letting the full implication of her words sink into Rachel, who stares at her with a dumbfounded expression as she turns away to continue the lesson.

“Arms up! Ready, 5, 6, 7…”

*

She’s in the middle of stretching out at the beginning of her next Freshman class when she hears someone strutting in ten minutes late, and looks up to see Schwimmer standing in front of her, dressed as what can only be an ill-informed caricature of ‘sexy’.

 _Christ_.

What’s more, Brody Weston of _all_ people is standing next to her. She shouldn’t be surprised, because for all his smoking hotness Brody never shoots higher than preying on Freshmen.

Rachel’s smirking like she’s successfully risen to Cassie’s challenge, but Cassie merely leans her chin vaguely seductively on her hand and says in a bored voice. “You’re late.” She watches as Rachel struggles not to roll her eyes, and adds, “And dressed like a Walgreens underwear model.”

Rachel throws a knowing look in Brody’s direction and something in the rapport they obviously have (what, did they bond over bitching about _Crazy July_ or something?) smarts Cassie.

“What are you doing here Brody?” she asks teasingly, and it’s not really a question she expects to be answered.

But Rachel misses the implications of her tone – or ignores them completely, she’s not sure – and replies, “I asked Brody to come in and help me with a little routine.”

Oh _there_ it is. Cassie smiles knowingly at Brody, and pushes a little further. “And you just love helping people don’t you,” she says with an icy sweetness. “Especially the ingénues.”

Brody avoids her cutting gaze and _honestly_ , how is Schwimmer this naïve? She seems to have caught Cassie’s tone by now but carries on regardless, informing Cassie that she apparently wants to prove her sexiness to her.

That catches Cassie’s interest, and she can’t help the slight buzz of satisfaction, as she absent-mindedly plays with her cane.

“Show me what you’ve prepared,” she tells her lightly, and gestures in mild disbelief at the talcum powder suddenly being sprayed across her classroom.

As she settles into her chair the opening notes of _Oops… I Did It Again_ trickle out and she can’t help the small smirk tugging at her lips at what is clearly going to be a pantomime of a performance, because really, _Britney_ is Schwimmer’s idea of the height of sexiness?

But then she begins to sing, and as her admittedly charming voice rolls out the words _it might seem like a crush_ and she lifts her big brown eyes to smoulder at Cassie, it occurs to her that this is a _seduction_ ; and not just in the name of theatre, but of her, particularly.

Rachel comes to stand before her in a horrifically awkward version of a sexy pose, but Cassie barely notices as she fully registers her long, long legs, barely covered by the swathe of material simultaneously pushing her breasts up _deliciously_. As Rachel licks her plump lips Cassie leans into her hand, half-hiding for a moment as she struggles to regain her composure, because Schwimmer _cannot_ think her performance is having any effect on her; for one thing, it’s not in any way deserving of such a reaction, and she can’t start thinking this kind of charade will land her _Evita_.

But Rachel sashaying around barely clothed is sending tingles through Cassie’s body, and her fingers begin to toy with her cane as she tries to regain her focus. Rachel climbs onto a table, throws open her legs and Cassie heart jumps as she suddenly has a full view of Rachel’s crotch. Heat rushes straight between her own thighs, and she squeezes her legs tighter.

Rachel’s getting more and more into the performance now though, her plump mouth smiling widely and her darkened eyes throwing flirtatious looks at the other dancers,  and she’s barely looking at Cassie as she slides across polished wood; which is thankful, as she has to cross and re-cross her legs in an attempt to satisfy the throbbing in her crotch. Cassie’s eyes narrow as she tries to do her job and analyse Rachel’s performance, but all she can think about is trying to drink in as much of her body as possible.

By the time Rachel reaches the second chorus Cassie’s control is starting to slip, her breathing heavy as her eyes dart around to follow Rachel’s every move. And then she watches as Rachel rubs herself up against Brody, oblivious of Cassie and clearly having the time of her life. Cassie’s eyes narrow because _of course_ \- this isn’t really for her at all, it’s just Schwimmer’s silly attempt at seducing the baby hunk dancing opposite her.

Rachel jumps up and belts out the glory note, running a hand through her hair as she shoots a cheeky grin at Cassie, because she’s apparently remembered who her audience is, and clearly thinks she’s won this one. She’s not even close. Cassie holds Rachel’s gaze determinedly as she leans back, silently planning how she’s going to tear her performance to shreds.

Rachel’s still smiling saucily right up until the moment the music stops, and when she takes a slight hitch of breath at the end, she suddenly becomes an innocent schoolgirl once again, and Cassie’s struck by how much she loses her insecurities when she’s performing, and how much she _transforms_ herself. Awkward dancing aside, Rachel is undeniably talented, and it angers her.

So when she jumps down from the tables – with Brody’s guiding hands, of course – and asks eagerly how she did, Cassie snaps, “Look you can memorise a routine. So what.” Rachel looks away dejectedly, and Cassie tries not to stare at her heaving chest.

“Rachel was incredible,” Brody insists, and _christ_ does he genuinely _like_ her?

That’s not happening.

“ _You_ were incredible,” Cassie tells him firmly, because he’s earned the right to be deemed approving. “Rachel was OK.” The dampness in her crotch thoroughly negates those words, but whatever.

She sees Rachel throw another look at Brody and it irks her even further. “And that song? Garbage. Who’s idea was that? You want truth? Fine. Maria Von Trapp,” she tells a stunned Rachel. “Willy Loman. Shrek,” she adds, grinning at Rachel as she sees the girls disappointment turning to exasperation and humiliation. Did she _honestly_ think her virginal, teenage idea of sex appeal could in any way change Cassie’s mind?

“Those are the roles that are appropriate for your level of sex appeal,” Cassie finishes dryly, pleased with her thorough dismantling of Rachel. Then suddenly:

“You’re just jealous of me. Of _all_ of us.”

Brody interjects, but no – she wants to see this. She smirks, waiting for Rachel to humiliate herself as she digs a deeper and deeper hole in her attempt to hurt Cassie.

“We have our entire careers ahead of us, and yours ended before it even began,” Rachel rambles and she almost laughs because she’s heard this one before. Just because she’s a _teacher_ does not mean her career is _over_. She’s got too thick a skin to be bothered by the delusions of a Freshman.

But then Rachel finishes with, “And you’re just some YouTube joke.”

 _What_.

Cassie stares open mouthed in disbelief at Rachel because –some _joke?_ _No one_ brings up that video if they don’t want their asses _handed_ to them. Cassie feels humiliation rising up inside her, closely followed by rage, and for a moment she has an overwhelming urge to swing at Rachel. But she holds it, trying to process what’s just been said to her until she leans forward and says simply, “You’re done. Get out of my class.”

When Rachel doesn’t move but simply stands there, the fall force of what she’s just said apparently _just_ dawning on her, she screams, “Get out of my class! Out!”

It still takes a moment for her to go, even with Cassie waving her cane dangerously in the air, but she turns and hurries out, closely followed by Brody. Cassie watches them go in disbelief, as tears sting in her eyes.

*

She’s fuming all the way through the back corridors of NYADA (god forbid she see Schwimmer now) and she barks at a cab driver to take her to SoHo. “No, wait. Talina’s,” she edits. She stares out the window, her jaw set hard as her heart still pumps wildly in her chest, adrenaline rushing round her body.

How dare she?

How _dare_ she?

She knows they all whisper about it behind her back – of course they do – but it’s in hushed tones in the dark corners of dorms, as if terrified the mere degradation of her name might get them expelled.

Not Rachel. Part of Cassie wishes she was more surprised, but she’s been expecting it all along. Hasn’t she been poking her and taunting her for this very reason, to make her crack? Not quite like this, perhaps, but then you can’t control a volcano once it’s exploded. She’d imagined shaking sobs and the stupid girl storming from her studio, dignity in tatters. But if she’s honest with herself she recognised that selfish determination that aligns _so_ often with cruelty the moment Rachel set foot in her class.

It’s not why her chest hurts so much. It’s not why at all.

*

“Hey,” says Lucian softly in her ear, wrapping an arm round her shoulders as he slips onto the barstool next to her.

“G+T please,” he tells the bartender, and leans forward on one elbow. Cassie downs the rest of her drink.

“Same,” she says, barely even slurring as she slams the glass on the polished wooden bar. “Why am I not in fucking Spain.”

“Because you have an army of over-indulged Broadway wannabes to bully into shape,” Lucian tells her plainly, “Otherwise, quite frankly, there’s no one to do a decent job,” he adds, and Cassie snorts.

“Wannabe is apparently what _I_ am,” says Cassie darkly as she reaches for her drink. Lucian raises an eyebrow at her.

“Cassie, don’t call a pity party on me because one of your students hasn’t learn to shut their arrogant mouth yet.”

“Lucian, this girl!” Cassie rages, her eyes flashing, “She’s so… _Argh_!”

“Find a way to shut her up,” Lucian tells her simply, as she sits fuming, running a hand angrily through her hair. She scowls at her drink.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get smashed.”

*

Six hours later Cassie wobbles into her loft, throwing her clothes off around her as she heads across the rug-covered floorboards and collapses on her bed. Groaning, she rolls over, and stares at the ceiling as her head spins. Broken images flash through her mind; Rachel pouting, Rachel running a hand through her long, long hair, Rachel with her legs spread, Rachel leaning forward so Cassie can see right down her top...

She slides a hand across her stomach and into herself, as the girl in her mind bends down and grins seductively up at her from between her legs, and a cry rips out from Cassie’s throat.

*

She dreams about Broadway that night. She’s on stage, as Evita, the opening notes of _Don’t Cry For Me Argentina_ echoing round the music hall, when somewhere from the dark audience laughter begins. Cassie stops, her heart hammering. _No, not this again. No._

She stares around at the empty stage, then back at the audience, where the laughter grows louder. She doesn’t understand. She’s not crazy. _She’s not_. The audience die away except for one figure; Rachel, still dressed in her outfit from earlier, laughing wildly.

 _You’re just some YouTube joke_.

Cassie gasps, her eyes flying open. They meet only darkness as she realises she’s awake. She lies there for several minutes as her heart hammers in her chest, waiting for her breathing to slow down, before she turns round and drifts back to sleep, clutching her pillow tightly.

*

She’s hung over as _fuck_ the next day, and thanks every saint she can remember from Catholic school that she doesn’t have classes on a Wednesday. Instead, she rolls out of bed at six in the morning, gasps down a litre of water, before collapsing again until sometime in the mid-afternoon.

She phones Tibideaux once she thinks she can speak again, but the outcome is pretty much what she’s expected. NYADA does second chances, even if she doesn’t.

She wonders if Rachel will come back to her class at all. (She knows she will.)

*

She stays up late that night, running through choreography sheets in the moonlight. It would be romantic if her head wasn’t thumping like a brass band. She leans against the cool window, trying to get the pain to stop.

She’s angry at herself for losing control, _again_ , even if Rachel didn’t see most of it, even if nobody but Lucian did. But she hasn’t lost it like that in years. Two, three maybe. Not since she stopped flying anyway.

 There’s one thing, though, nudging away at her from the back of her mind. A grudging respect for a girl who she’s beaten down and humiliated and who came back fighting with _fire_. She almost doesn’t want Rachel to give up, give in… because she knows that’s the kind of fight it takes to make it on Broadway. That’s the kind of fight it takes to be a star.

She shakes her head and growls in exasperation, and then tips her head back against the wall as she almost laughs at herself.

*

It’s late afternoon the next day, as she’s working on some new choreography, when the door of her classroom creaks open. She ignores it at first, because whoever it is can wait, but then she freezes slightly as she sees Rachel standing hesitantly at the door, looking like she’s about to enter the lion’s den.

Cassie supposes she is, in a way.

“I’m working,” she says sulkily, and continues to undulate her hips seemingly effortlessly. She doesn’t miss the way Rachel stares a little too long.

Undeterred, Rachel closes the door and says quietly, “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

Cassie doesn’t say anything, but continues to work as Rachel begins an earnest speech, from which Cassie gathers she _still_ thinks she’s being picked on, until she breathily tells her, “Stop. _Talking_.” She’s still in the haze of her earlier dancing, and maybe that’s why she lets down her barriers a little and decides to be honest with Rachel.

Or maybe it’s the Irish coffee she had for lunch. Who knows.

“Look. You lost it. You lashed out, same as I did ten years,” she admits, scribbling down her new choreography. “Except all it took for you to snap,” she continues, turning round to wave her pen at Rachel, “Is a little honest feedback – and, excuse me – dance class! And you expect to make it on _Broadway_?” She adds a mocking chorus imitation, as if to underline Rachel’s idealistic ideas about her future world of employment. Rachel has the decency to look ashamed, casting her gaze down as she plays with her fingers.

“Where all there is, is _scrutiny,_ and _judgement_ ,” she tells her more passionately. When Rachel ignores her warning to further apologise she interrupts, because she _needs_ her to see this from her point of view; she needs her to understand what she’s risking when she loses control like that.

“And what if someone taped your little outburst. And then posted it on the internet. You’d _never get cast_.”

Rachel’s silent, the full reality of Cassie’s words hitting home, and so she says slightly more softly, “You’ve got _one chance_. You screw it up – _done_.” She lies back on the floor with a slightly manic grin on her face, reaching up to pull her leg back into a stretch. “You’re that _crazy_ actress, and why would anyone wanna work with you?” For a moment she can see Rachel registering what Cassie’s revealing to her; a snapshot of what ten years of humiliation and self-punishment have done.

Cassie wonders briefly why she’s opening up, even a little, around Rachel, and why Rachel seems so much less daunted by it than everyone else.

“Because you’re good,” Rachel tells her sweetly, as Cassie rolls onto her side. Somehow the underestimation doesn’t really piss her off.

“I was _great_ ,” Cassie counters, pointing her foot high into the air as if to prove her point. She turns round to grin at Rachel, like she’s sharing a special little secret with her, but her eyes darken slightly when she notices the – is that _arousal_ in Rachel’s eyes? The part of Cassie still angry at her disappears all together, instead replaced with that familiar curiosity and nagging desire to test exactly how far Rachel’s attraction to her goes. She’s still standing there, too terrified to approach, so Cassie beckons her over.

“But it doesn’t make a difference,” she sighs, gesturing for Rachel to press on her leg. “’Cause I wasn’t ready for the pressure.”

Rachel’s still incredibly hesitant – which, she can’t really blame her – so she presses softly and a little _seductively_ down on Rachel’s hand, encouraging her to push her leg back further.

“Believe me; it’s a _whole_ lot more vicious it is out there than it is in here,” she tells her, as Rachel pushes her leg back towards her head, and she can see the conflicting emotions running across her face. So she swings round to lie on her front, looking directly at Rachel in the mirror as she admits, “And that’s why I pick on my students. I want them to be _ready_.”

Between Cassie’s personal admissions and their physical proximity, the atmosphere in the classroom has suddenly become a lot more charged. Cassie takes advantage of it and leans her head forward, gesturing at Rachel with her two middle fingers – innuendo intended – to continue helping her stretch. Rachel slowly presses her hands down on her bum, and tingles head up Cassie’s spine. She can feel how clammy Rachel’s hands are through her leggings.

Christ, Schwimmer really _does_ have the hots for her.

“Well I, I know that I’m not there yet,” Rachel admits.

“Not even close,” Cassie replies, but it’s not malicious – it’s almost _fond_. “And if I had my choice, I wouldn’t let you back in my class.” Rachel bites her lip, and yeah – Cassie can see she’s learnt her lesson.

“I don’t believe in second chances. I know they don’t exist.” It’s the most honest admission of this whole encounter. “Unfortunately for me, school policy says – you get a warning.” She can almost feel the relief emanating from Rachel; but she’s not getting off that easily. Cassie stretches out one final time, lifting her hips high into the air so her bum is unmistakeably placed in front of Rachel’s face, and she bites back a grin as she sees Rachel freeze, staring at her crotch, until she catches herself and asks stutteringly:

“So?”

“So. You’re in. And on probation. And dance belt duty,” she adds gleefully, because she’s not going to let her get away scot free – and messing with Schwimmer is so fun. The smile slips from Rachel’s face as Cassie tells her seriously, “Hand washed. All of them.”

Rachel is still for a moment, as if waiting for her real punishment, but Cassie just says kindly, “You’re dismissed, Schwimmer.” It’s starting to sound like a term of endearment, now.

Rachel can’t stop staring at her as she leaves the classroom, and Cassie wonders exactly how much she’s managed to mess with her head. She’s wonders how much Rachel’s messed with her own.

*

Cassandra waits for the rest of the week until she softens – it’s cursory, really, and it should be a lot longer. But from their unexpectedly honest encounter she’s confident Rachel’s learnt her lesson. And as she sits quietly, sadly in the corner, humiliating her doesn’t seem like so much fun.

So Friday afternoon, while they’re dancing slowly to _Everytime_ – a silent homage to Rachel that Cassie just can’t resist as she’s flicking through old CDs – she whispers in one of her more adequate male dancers ears, and sends him over to Rachel. She beams at him, and Cassie smiles to herself as Rachel gets up, looking over at her and giving a shy, grateful smile of her own before she’s led off across the dance floor.

Cassie circles them silently, watching as Rachel wraps a long, tan leg around the boy. He spins her out, and then pulls her back flush against him. Cassie turns away at the smile on Rachel’s face, biting her lip as something stings in her chest.

She’s just doing her job, she tells herself.

She’s just doing her job.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It grates because their entire dynamic feels like some private joke, communicated only through flirtatious looks and sarcastic barbs and lingering touches, but it’s there nonetheless, in a way that’s completely unique and she’s become… fond of; and every time Rachel bursts their bubble with a smoulder up at Brody she feels a wave of bitterness that she doesn’t entirely understand._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the insanely long delay - I've had exams, but thankfully they're over now, so updates should be more frequent.

So.

Rachel becomes more tolerable after their after-class encounter. She keeps her mouth shut – most of the time – and works diligently, accepting all of Cassie’s criticisms without complaint and actually _improving_. Cassie becomes accustomed to looking over to find Rachel’s face set hard in focus as she bends over her leg at the _barre_ or leaps across the dance hall, and she knows she’s succeeding in her job.

But the more focus Rachel puts on her work the less she does on Cassie, and so she almost involuntarily finds herself more and more trying to attract Rachel’s attention; without looking like she’s lost any semblance of control. She lingers a little too long when she’s critiquing Rachel’s work, ignoring her other students to give some scathing advice; she can’t help but step into Rachel’s personal space more than is strictly necessary, to adjust her posture or push her stretch or just to whisper a sarcastic put down in her ear, which starts to become less like negative reinforcement and more and more like private jokes.

There’s some weird, twisted rapport between them; a mutual recognition of their shared weaknesses, which somehow  now draws out an amused eye-roll from Rachel at Cassie’s cruel admonishments, rather than furious indignation – followed by an almost imperceptible smirk from Cassie.

Cassie would rather eat glass than say she _likes_ her; but she can definitely bear her presence 30% of the time.

She catches Rachel looking, though, more and more; in the mirror when Cassie’s back’s turned, or through a crowd when she thinks she can’t be noticed. And she doesn’t miss the way Rachel reacts to her physical proximity, a light sheen of sweat glistening on her brow and her chest heaving slightly too much.

It’s mostly just amusing, because whilst Rachel’s still dressing like a rather preppy toddler, she can deny _any_ vague attraction to her 

Then one day Rachel sashays in with sex hair to rival Cassie’s own, make-up ready for the stage, her breasts almost falling out of her leotard and a shy smile that shows she knows _exactly_ how sexy she looks, and Cassie, despite the fact she has one arm resting on the piano, nearly falls over.

“Looking good, Schwim,” she says dryly as Rachel walks past, with a hint of a smirk tugging at her mouth. Rachel’s smile broadens, and she self-consciously tugs a strand of beautifully tousled hair behind her ear as she makes her way over to warm up. Cassie glances at her own reflection in the mirror briefly, and her heart jumps when she sees how dark her eyes are.

She hurriedly turns back round to the piano, fingering her cane for a moment before she claps at her class, and, changing her entire lesson plan, says, “OK, on the floor everyone. This afternoon we are working on our _flexibility_ , as most of you can still only lift your legs about as high as an arthritic grandmother. Splits everyone, let’s go!”

She sees Rachel – possibly the least flexible in the class – making her way to the far corner and quickly intervenes. “Schwim, over here with me. You need extra help,” she tells her, with a slightly wicked grin.

Rachel opens her mouth to protest, but then gamely walks over to Cassie and looks up at her expectantly.

“Right leg,” Cassie tells her, nodding at the floor.

As Rachel crouches down Cassie get a full view down her top and _christ_ who knew Schwimmer had a rack worth looking at? She licks her lips and it takes her a moment to realise that Rachel is trying to slide into the splits in possibly the most ridiculous and ineffective way possible. Of course.

“Schwimmer, _what_ are you doing?” she asks, as Rachel lays her right leg flat on the floor and tries to push her left leg back.

“I’m-“, Rachel begins, but is cut off with a groan.

“OK stop before you hurt yourself, god,” Cassie says when an ugly grimace starts to appear on Rachel’s face, because the only place she’s heading is a torn muscle. “Seriously Schwimmer, have you never had a dance lesson before coming to NYADA?”

“I learnt how to do the splits from drunken cheerleaders,” Rachel replies, so entirely deadpan that Cassie honestly can’t tell if she’s joking or not.

She rolls her eyes and then slides effortlessly down into her own splits, holding herself a couple of inches above the ground with her hands. 

“Don’t start from the ground. Keep your legs straight and use your weight to push you down.” She lifts her hands up and sinks completely down to the floor, smirking as Rachel’s eyes linger on her crotch.

“Your turn,” she teases seductively, and Rachel blushes slightly, but then stands up and tries again. 

She almost reaches the floor, and Cassie can’t resist sliding her hand along the wood under Rachel. She barely brushes her crotch, but she can hear the hitch in Rachel’s breath and almost _feel_ the heat radiating from her. She lifts her eyes from her hand to Rachel, and there’s something in the slight challenge in her eyes that makes Cassie wonder if she’s not the only one who’s let their fantasies wander.

“Almost there,” she whispers, smirking again. Then she moves her hand away and jumps up, heart pounding as she barks criticism at her nearest student.

*

When Rachel tiptoes in a week later bearing quite possibly the tallest overgrown baby she’s ever met and meekly asks if her _boyfriend_ can sit in on the class, she is literally too shocked to say anything – which Rachel of course takes as a yes, and ushers the lump over to the back of the hall. He glances at her warily and she narrows her eyes in return, placing her hands on her hips as she tries to figure out how in the world over-ambitious, over-reaching Schwimmer _ever_ settled for this boy.

“Just _don’t_ join in, okay?” Rachel tells the boy nervously, and Cassie has to bite down her lip to stop herself from laughing. She watches as Rachel self-consciously begins to warm-up, her boyfriend shamelessly checking out her ass, and Cassie suddenly remembers Rachel’s probably slept with this boy and just _why_.

 (It’s not jealously, it’s not at all; she’s just disappointed in Rachel for setting her standards so low when _everything_ matters when it comes to your career.)

She needn’t have worried, though, because as soon as Rachel starts dancing she loses all her inhibitions and throws herself into her work, leaving her boyfriend forgotten and dejected at the side. He watches her mournfully in a way that suggests he _knows_ she’s too good for him and when Cassie looks over at the laughing girl in the centre of the room, playing with her hair as her partner mockingly critiques her _fouette_ , she thinks back to the repressed, small-town schoolgirl she was just a couple of months ago and she can feel a slither of the shock at Rachel’s transformation that the boy is going through.

She doesn’t see him in her class again. What she _does_ see, a few days later, is a quieter, slightly red-eyed Rachel, and she’s neither surprised nor sympathetic.

She pushes her harder than usual for the next few lessons to make sure Rachel remembers _exactly_ where her focus lies.

*

Cassie’s on her way home one evening when she quickly doubles back to grab her flask from her studio. She’s halfway across the wooden floor when she hears a rustle and looks over to see Rachel standing by the barre in the half-light, startled. Streetlight distorted by the window makes shadows dance across her face and Cassie suddenly thinks how _beautiful_ she looks, her lips slightly partly and her chest still heaving from exertion.

“Miss July,” Rachel says in shock, looking nervous.

“Schwimmer,” Cassie replies, sounding much more pleasantly surprised. “What are you doing in my studio so late at night?” she asks, sauntering over.

“I- I was just practicing my _rond de jambs_ a little more,” Rachel tells her hesitantly. Cassie feels a little like she’s stumbled in on a secret ritual of Rachel’s, and she knows she should turn and leave, really; but secrets seem to be something they share now.

“Ok. Show me what you’ve got,” Cassie tells her, waving with her fingers. When Rachel hesitates further she prompts impatiently, “Go on!”

Rachel obliges, and Cassie studies her carefully as she sinks down and arches one leg out and round in a slightly wobbly semi-circle.

“No, Schwimmer,” Cassie interrupts, and Rachel stops mid-exercise, rising up. “Your weight is completely off centre. Pull _up._ Then you’ll keep your balance and look less like a demented chicken.”

Rachel bites her lip and tries again, but she’s even more of a mess. Cassie sighs exasperatedly and wonders what the hell has gotten into her.

“Ok I’m going to show your body how it needs to form, and then you try it like that,” Cassie tells her, moving forward to slide a hand round her waist to hold at her back, and press the other hard against her abdomen. Her fingers tingle on the soft fabric and Rachel’s sweet perfume washes over her and for a moment her breath catches in her throat.

Rachel glances down at the barre and bites her lip again.

“Again Schwimmer,” Cassie says quietly, and her voice somehow comes out an octave lower than it did before.

Rachel looks up at her determinedly, and obediently lowers herself towards the floor again, Cassie moving with her as they hold each other’s gaze. Rachel sweeps her leg in a perfect arc across the floor as Cassie holds her, feeling the tremors in her body, then they rise gracefully up together.

They stop, Cassie’s arms still wrapped round Rachel’s waist, chests almost brushing together as they heave from the exercise. Cassie watches as Rachel’s eyes ghost over Cassie’s lips, and she ever so slightly raises an eyebrow at her.

The clang of a door down the corridor shakes them out of their reverie and Cassie snaps away, leaving Rachel looking disorientated.

“Better,” she tells her softly, smiling. Rachel stares up at her with wide eyes and she _knows_ Rachel’s wondering if she’s talking about something else entirely.

She turns and stalks back out of the studio, grabbing her flask and doesn’t stop until she’s out of the building and in a cab home.

She leans back against the seat and lets out a deep sigh, as she wonders if Rachel was really about to kiss her.

She doesn’t know when that became something she actually _wanted_.

*

Her good mood lasts two whole days, until she spots Rachel sharing a coffee with Brody in Washington Square Park and it evaporates on the spot.

She knows there’s something going on. She catches Brody dropping Rachel off before class, or waiting for her after, and it’s _painfully_ obvious that he’s as much of a smarmy predator as ever; and that Rachel loves it. Cassie watches as she plays with her hair and he whispers something in her ear before they head off down the corridor together and she rolls her eyes so much they _hurt_.

It grates.

It grates that when Rachel dances, she shakes off her inhibitions, throws herself into her work and _owns_ her body, smouldering or floating, whatever the dance demands and _oozing_ confidence (often misplaced, because she’s still near the bottom of the class – although that’s a class of fifteen of the most of the talented Freshmen performers in the country); and then as soon as Brody appears she becomes a giggling, fourteen year old girl and it’s actually nauseating, with or without a hangover.

It grates because their entire dynamic feels like some private joke, communicated only through flirtatious looks and sarcastic barbs and lingering touches, but it’s _there_ nonetheless, in a way that’s completely unique and she’s become… _fond_ of; and every time Rachel bursts their bubble with a smoulder up at Brody she feels a wave of bitterness that she doesn’t entirely understand.

She’s never liked things that are out of her control. So she decides to put the two of them in a room together, her room, and figure out a way to get what she wants.

Whatever that is.

Rachel looks up eagerly as she saunters into the dance hall, and she feels that familiar buzz of satisfaction when she sees her unconsciously licks her lips. Oh it is _so_ on.

“So, partner up! We’re gonna go across the floor; let’s start with some jetés.”

And – yeah, her class is completely designed to involve as _much_ physical contact as possible. Sometimes she wonders if any of her students notice how effortlessly she manipulates them.

(She wonders if Rachel does.)

Brody predictably heads quickly over to her and Rachel beams, hands moving straight to her hair. Cassie watches, unnoticed, from across the dance hall as Rachel gesticulates to some kind of speech she’s apparently making, which Brody evidently has no interest in. He feigns a smile that is so patently see-through Cassie almost rolls her eyes.

She tries to focus on critiquing her students, but it’s all pretty generic. Her eyes and ears keep being drawn back to Rachel and Brody, now moving _just_ close enough for her to catch what they’re saying.

“I know, I’m really excited. So you know the director Ivan van Hoven? He’s doing this, like, _amazing_ avant-garde production of ‘The Glass Menagerie’-“

That catches Cassie’s attention. She remembers Ivan; cruel, chauvinistic and power-mad, one of the most hard-to-please directors on Broadway, and also one of the most-desired. She’d sacrificed almost every ounce of dignity she had in her audition for him, fresh out of college and painfully naïve; she made it to call-backs, if only so he could torment her naivety some more.

Schwimmer, _no_.

She can’t help a sly glance over her shoulder as they move past, and she pouts at what she sees; Rachel in all her enthusiasm at her _exciting new opportunity_.

“…and so he’s looking for just a fresh face to play his Laura Wingfield,” Rachel beams up at Brody. Cassie knows that Rachel doesn’t stand a chance – and so does Brody if his patronizing tone is anything to go by – but that doesn’t stop the flare of jealousy rising up inside her. 

She remembers her first role, and the excitement and the promise and the many, many things she’s bitterly resigned to never experiencing again.

When Brody wraps his arms around Rachel and tells her she’s too hot to play Laura – and when she _buys_ it, smiling coyly up at him despite his _compliment_ being both misogynistic (he should damn audition for Ivan) and ridiculous – her jealously roars.

She glares as she follows them across the floor, ignoring the rest of the class as her self-control starts to slip and she _has_ to intervene.

“Hey, some advice,” she interrupts, because it’s the best excuse her irrational mind can muster. “You’re not ready for Ivan,” she tells Rachel firmly, and when her eager little face falls she softens slightly, because Rachel’s earned a little of her respect now.

“You’re not tough enough yet, you don’t have enough _wounds_ ,” she insists, and there’s truth in what she’s saying; Cassie wasn’t and didn’t either, and she tells Rachel as much.

“Look, I auditioned for him, for his header, and he made me recite my monologue in a slip, standing on one foot, pouring tomato juice all _over_ myself,” she divulges, almost _affectionately_. It seems to work, because Rachel looks downright _terrified_. “Skip it Schwimmer, Ivan will eat you alive,” she advises her, before turning away.

There’s a slight pause until Rachel – predictably – fights back 

“I can take it,” she insists, and Cassie momentarily has a flashback to Rachel saying _exactly_ the same thing in her dream a few nights ago. She turns back round, biting her lip in frustration as her hands subconsciously play with her cane and _christ_ is there no end to this girls aggravation?

“And I was thinking, maybe you should audition too?” Rachel suggests hesitantly and – _what?_

Cassie has to pause for a moment to check she hasn’t misheard, but no, Rachel really did just say those words. Humiliation rises up harsh and raw as she instinctively ices over and honestly why does she _ever_ try to be nice to her?

She masks it quickly with amusement. “You mean the faded southern belle?” she asks in feigned ignorance that barely masks the _ridiculousness_ of the suggestion. “Who spends her haggy days selling magazine subscriptions over the phone?” She pouts, and waits for Rachel to take the hint. And honestly if she’d backed away Cassie would have left it at tormenting her for the rest of the term.

But she doesn’t, because she’s Rachel, and she just twists the knife even further when she says hopefully, “I just thought you maybe might wanna get back in the game…”

 _Get back in the game_.

Cassie literally cannot form words to fully verbalise her rage, so she just smiles with a cold, terrifying sweetness at poor, naïve Rachel, as she visualises how to best destroy the girl who has just crossed _every single possible line_.

It’s not even hard.

“Juniors take five,” she orders the class, turning away from Rachel who realises instantly she’s gone way too far, because Cassie _never_ just dismisses her. Cassie can see how sulky and disgruntled she is, glancing back at Brody as if to say _I told you so_.

She gives Cassie a dark, almost _warning_ glare as she disregards her for Brody and what, does she think she has _any_ influence over Cassie’s actions? Because she just knows her _so fucking well_ now apparently?

Cassie pushes her anger down and slips into her most charming role as she beckons Brody over.

“But it’s gonna mean a lot of late nights, a lot of time out of school, you’re gonna have to help me prep lessons…” she tells him, and she can see from the eager look in his eyes he knows _exactly_ what she means.

He’s almost too easy to manipulate.

But then he says, “Ahh actually, can we start on Monday? I promised Rachel that I would-“

She freezes at the mention of Rachel’s name, anger and jealousy at _so many things_ hitting her in another huge wave. Why her? Why does everyone else love this girl so damn much? _Why is Cassie being put second place to her?_

(Why is he the one who gets Rachel?)

“Yep,” she can barely whisper in reply, trying to keep her simmering rage pushed down until the right moment. “I understand!” She says it so sweetly he eyes her with suspicion; but he’ll never care enough about her motives to stand up to her, so she ignores it.

She splits the Freshmen and Juniors up after that, and spends the rest of the lesson ignoring the worried looks Rachel throws her from across the dance hall.

*

She’s watching _West Wing_ reruns on her couch with Lucian, take-out on her lap, when he suddenly pauses the program and she realises she’s been staring into space for the last fifteen minutes 

She sighs, shoving her food away from her as he gives her a long, hard stare.

“Cas,” he says slowly, raising his eyebrows. She’s silent and sulky in a way she only can be around someone she’s known for fifteen years.

“What did she say?” he asks. Cassie whips round to give him a shocked glare, and he snorts.

“Well she’s clearly done something,” he insists, reaching forward to finish Cassie’s take out. “I can’t think of anything else right now that would distract you from Kristin Chenoweth."

That makes her laugh.

“You make me out to be so much gayer than I actually am,” she smiles, stealing some of her takeout back.

“I really don’t,” Lucian replies dryly. She raises an eyebrow and then sighs again, because that just brings her back to…

“Schwimmer suggested I audition for _Amanda Wingfield_ in some off-Broadway ‘Menagerie’,” she tells him darkly.

Lucian whistles lowly. “Does she want to be eaten alive?”

“I know!” Cassie exclaims, almost laughing in disbelief. “It’s like she doesn’t even understand that she is a _Freshman_ in _college_ and I’m… I was on Broadway for _five years_!”

“Where did that suggestion even come from?” Lucian frowns.

“She’s auditioning for Laura,” Cassie tells him sullenly, and then looks away when she hears the bitterness in her own voice.

“Ah,” Lucian says, in a way that tells Cassie she’s pretty much laid all her cards on the table as to why she’s actually so… _christ_ she doesn’t even know what emotion she’s feeling anymore.

“She’s your student; don’t you want her to succeed?” It’s not really a question, and when Cassie glances over at her friend she knows she doesn’t have to voice the two conflicting answers in her mind.

She looks at him completely openly for a moment, and says in a quiet, almost scared voice, “There’s just something about this girl, Luce.”

*

There is, and she hates it.

She hates the skip of her heartbeat when she hears Rachel’s voice echo down the hallway from her classroom. But still, she can’t help smiling when she walks in and sees her, so adorably terrified.

Then she remembers why Rachel looks so scared, and why she’s probably in the studio after-hours.

(She sucks it up, because she knows her revenge will come soon.)

When Rachel’s outstandingly homosexual roommate nearly salivates at the sight of her painfully well-toned abs and Rachel looks ready to _throttle_ him, she feels a small victory, though; Rachel turns a wonderful shade of crimson and tries to avoid both her abs and eyes at the same time.

“So you were saying? Not gonna see… what?” she prompts, not because she in any way cares about Schwimmer’s life, obviously, but she can definitely get some embarrassing personal anecdotes from baby face to humiliate her with in the future.

Sure enough, seconds later Rachel’s breakup with the Un-incredible Hulk is confirmed to her, and it amuses her when Rachel glares at her confidante as if she was _private_ about her emotional life.

But it does present an interesting premise to Cassie… unresolved feelings for an ex are the _perfect_ way to lure Rachel away from her New York man candy, giving Cassie the chance to exact some sweet, sweet revenge.

“When is it?” she asks.

“This weekend.”

Bingo.

“Oh,” she says as casually as possible. “Well you need to go.”

Rachel has a strange expression on her face at that, which Cassie can’t quite read.

“I mean if you’re both not over your exes it’s a perfect opportunity for closure,” she presses.

“I have closure,” Rachel reassures her, and Cassie’s not quite sure which of the three of them Rachel’s trying to convince.

She tries a different tactic. “Ok, then go have fun, Schwim.”

Rachel pulls a frustrated face and Cassie wonders if Rachel would rather she persuaded her to _stay_. With _her._ She can’t meet her eyes all of a sudden .

“Or go because it’s Grease. Go because it’s your friends, it’s your high school.” She can’t quite keep the bitter nostalgia out of her voice, and jealousy creeps back up inside her.

Gay best friend jumps in on the act, though, and his little high-school monologue actually makes Cassie pout in faux-sympathy because it’s _cute_ what these kids think is real pain.

 “And even if I wanted to go – which I don’t,” Rachel reassures her, and Cassie rolls her eyes because she really doesn’t give a fuck whether Rachel goes chasing after her pathetic ex-boyfriend for a weekend.

(She only cares if she’s being chased by someone who might actually _win_ her.)

She arches her back out as Rachel gives some monologue about her poverty (she doesn’t miss the hesitation in Rachel’s voice as her bum rises into the air), then looks up at Rachel from under the barre and suggests seductively, “Well, I _could_ give you my Jet Blue frequent flier miles.”

She stretches out her back again as she explains her aeroplane mis-adventures, pushing her hips as high into the air as possible, because, well, while she’s got Rachel here staring, she might as well make the most of it.

“…which resulted in the hospitalization of… _three_ flight attendants.”

Baby Lucian looks more curious than concerned, and she warms to him a little.

“Don’t ask,” Cassie tells him, and then turns round to Rachel, “And don’t go, if you don’t want to.”

Rachel looks like she’s hovering on the precipice, so Cassie tells her more gently, “But I just think you’ll… regret missing it.”

She looks surprised at Cassie’s kindness – rightly so – and she wonders for a moment if Rachel’s smart enough yet to figure out when she’s being played.

She’s not, though, especially with the emotional blackmail of her roommate – who Cassie really does like – so she instructs them to forward her their details, and later that evening sends back two tickets under the name of Miss Schwimmer.

*

Rachel beams at her in class the next day, and she simpers back. Brody doesn’t pick her up or drop her off, and Cassie can’t help feeling a twinge of happiness at that.

What he does do, however, is drop into her office later that day to let her know he’s free this Friday after all.

She smirks and crosses her legs and tells him she’s glad.

*

It’s not even hard.

An hour of breathless, passionate tango with lips brushing against necks and wandering hands where she lets Brody know _exactly_ what she wants… and what he can have if it takes it. It’s a game, another role she’s playing and she doesn’t think or feel but does what she’s the absolute best at.

When she sees the song amongst her selection she smiles darkly to herself, running her fingers lightly across the table before she makes her decision. A little _homage_ to Schwimmer, and Cassie wishes she was here to see this. 

_I could flirt with all the guys_

_Smile at them and bat my eyes_

_Press against them when we dance, make them think they stand a chance_

_Then refuse to see it through_

_That’s a thing I’d never do_

It’s a role she’s born to play, and she throws herself into her seduction and just _forgets_ , just for a moment… forgets how old and tired and aching she feels, forgets the endless rejection and humiliation, forgets her career’s in tatters, forgets that she’s a terrible person, forgets about Rachel, forgets that she doesn’t even know herself anymore. Until…

_But to cry in front of you,_

_That’s the worst thing I could do_

 And without hesitation Rachel’s laughing form, dark eyes lifting to smoulder at her from under her lashes, flashes before her eyes, and jealously and self-hatred and guilt overwhelm her and the only thing she can think of doing to make it go away is turn her head to Brody and pull his mouth down on hers.

*

She puts on her best smile and gives him what she knows is pretty much one of the best nights of his life, because this is one domain in which Rachel just _cannot_ compete, and she wants to make sure he never forgets Rachel’s second-best to her.

She doesn’t want anyone to ever fucking forget that.

And it’s pretty fun, because he is _smokin_ hot and knows how to move his body like only a dancer can, but when he pushes her over the edge she can’t help the face that forces itself into her mind.

She shouldn’t want her so badly. She shouldn’t want her at all. When she sees her name flash up on Brody’s phone a wave of jealousy hits stronger than anything before, and she has a sudden, overwhelming urge to show Rachel that _she hasn’t won_. This is a game that Rachel will _never_ win.

She smiles as she picks up the phone, drawing out her sweet, sweet victory.

“Well hello Schwimmer,” she smirks. “How’s Ohio?”

“Cassandra?” Rachel asks in confusion. “I… I was calling for Brody,” she says slowly, and Cassie can almost hear the panicky scenarios running through her mind.

“Yeeaah, he’s in the shower,” she tells her, pausing to let the implication of her words sink in. “Soaping up his incredibly chiselled physique. Want me to leave him a message?” she adds casually, trying to sweep away in two sentences any notion of Rachel’s that she was actually _familiar_ with Brody, or that she ever even stood a _chance_.

Rachel’s arrogance (and naivety) is outstanding, though, and she can’t quite comprehend the idea of her precious boy-toy doing the dirty behind her back.

“I-I’m sorry I don’t understand,” she stammers, and Cassie relishes what comes next.

“Ah, let’s see,” she begins teasingly. “You blew off your play date with the hottest piece of ass at NYADA to go visit your loser ex-boyfriend. Said hot ass was lonely, distraught… didn’t know what to do with himself… and was _more_ than happy to help me choreograph a routine when I called him up. And then one thing led to another and next thing you know he’s at my place and… you know…”

There’s a pregnant pause, and she hears Rachel take a shaky breath on the other end of the phone, like she’s playing the part of a tragic high-school heroine.

“So… you and Brody?” she says tearfully. “ _Why?”_

Well, she asked.

And Cassie needs to spit out some of that venom, some of that sting of Rachel choosing that stupid, _stupid_ boy and then daring to make her feel more humiliated than anyone has in a long, long time.

“Why don’t we consider this one of those _nasty_ life lessons. Auditioning for an off-Broadway play… _Throwing_ yourself at an upper-classman?”

It’s ridiculous, and she knows it. She pushes her students beyond their limits and encourages them to do the same for themselves, but she still manages to make it sound like Rachel’s being idiotic. She’s outright _lying_ at the second part, but she knows Rachel’s insecurities will make her believe it, if only for a moment.

“And then telling me that… _I_ need to get back in the game?” she laughs incredulously, because it _is_ ridiculous. Who is this girl, this aggravating, deluded, arrogant, girl to make any assumptions about Cassie’s career? “I’m- _I_ need to get back in the game?! I think you were overreaching and needed a little bit of a reminder. I _am_ the game, Schwimmer,” she tells her, and in that moment she almost believes it. “And you are what you’ve always been. A privileged, self-indulgent, dime-a-“

The phone goes dead. Cassandra pauses for a moment in disbelief, and then laughs.

 _She’s won_.

She lies still on the bed, heart hammering with adrenaline. She has to fight the urge to phone Rachel up and torture her some more she feels so smarted at being hung up on, but her pride stops her and she throws the phone across the room instead.

Then she leans back and smiles in satisfaction as she replays her last words to Schwimmer… _how_ long has she wanted to throw that reality in her face, _christ_. Her whole body is buzzing with alcohol and endorphins and a hundred different competing emotions, but she can pick out a tiny glint of hope… that maybe she’ll feel a little less shitty about herself.

Then Brody walks back into the room and it hits her how much she’s just sold herself for revenge and she honestly nearly heaves and she knows she hasn’t drunk enough yet to cause that.

“You need to leave,” she tells him, sitting up, and she looks startled.

“OK…” he says slowly.

“I have stuff to do tomorrow,” she adds, by way of explanation. “Nothing personal,” she smiles. He nods, and quickly gathers his things. Cassie’s breath hitches when he picks up his phone, but he notices nothing.

“You can let yourself out,” she tells him sweetly, sliding back onto the covers. He looks at her strangely for a moment.

“Cassie…” he begins, and she raises an eyebrow and wonders if he’s actually going to confront how much she’s just used him.

(Maybe it’ll make her forget how much she’s used herself.)

He’s always been spineless, though, so he shakes his head and says, “Nothing,” then leaves.

She should probably feel victorious, she thinks, but she really just feels kind of vague and light and empty, with a dull nausea in the pit of her stomach, which is how she knows she basically just needs another drink.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It kind of comes out when Cassie scathingly puts down her attempts to compete with NYADAs reigning prodigy, and Cassie knows the rest of the class watching probably think this is some kind of bizarre insecure-off._
> 
> _(It’s truer than she wants to admit, but so are a lot of things when it comes to Rachel.)_
> 
> _“I’ve kept up with you!” Rachel insists, and Cassie freezes because she knows Rachel’s not talking about her dancing, and that’s not a line she should fucking cross._
> 
>   _(Not in public. Not out loud.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where we finally head off into AU... I hope it was worth the wait :)

So.

She’s pretty much not hated herself this much since she lashed out at Carmen, three weeks after she’d given her a job. It’s not that she thinks stealing Brody from Rachel was a _bad_ thing – because, well, she fucking deserved it, for a whole bunch of reasons Cassie just doesn’t want to think about anymore.

But having sex with Brody when it was so blatantly about someone else makes her feel so fucking used, despite the fact that _she_ was the one doing the using. And yeah Brody is one smoking piece of ass, but she didn’t do it for _herself_ ; she did it for Rachel. She never, ever lets anyone have control of her body or her emotions, and she hates that somehow it’s _Schwimmer_ who’s got the better of her.

She doesn’t stop drinking all weekend, and wakes up feeling like absolute death Monday morning. She knows Brody doesn’t believe her when she calls asking him to cover – he is her TA, after all – but she just doesn’t want to face Rachel, or the world, today. She can barely face herself.

Besides, she knows Rachel’s probably been furiously ignoring Brody and will continue to do so unless she’s literally forced into confronting him; and she basically wants to make sure he never comes near her again, which is guaranteed to happen after Rachel flips her shit and opens her big mouth.

Tuesday comes and she still feels absolutely fucking _horrific_ , and it’s only about 30% due to alcohol, but she can’t palm off her Freshmen with Brody two days in a row, so she steals herself and spends an extra half hour on her makeup just to make sure she looks fucking _perfect_.

And of course Schwimmer doesn’t even show – Cassie stalks into class, and looks around after a moment when she doesn’t see her eager head bobbing around. She shrugs it off as lateness, but by fifteen minutes in it’s clear Schwimmer’s apparently got better things to do than attend Cassie’s lessons.

She fumes all Thanksgiving break, passing the holiday in a haze of alcohol. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows she hasn’t been this bad since her twenties; but she just doesn’t have it in herself to care. She gets angrier and angrier as she paces – often stumbles – around her loft, rerunning her confrontations with Rachel in her mind.

 _“_ _I just thought you maybe might wanna get back in the game…”_

_“I promised Rachel that I would help her out…”_

_“_ _So… you and Brody? Why?”_

She hurls an empty bottle of Malibu across the loft and grits her teeth as it smashes, before a sob forces itself up her throat and she crumples to the floor, her chest heaving and shaking as she cries so hard she can barely breathe. She pounds her hands violently against the floor before she gives in and cries more than she has in the last ten years.

 *

She collapses in her bed at some point around 3am, exhausted, her chest in _agony_ and with the only clear thought in her mind that she _has to beat Rachel._

*

Cassie surveys herself in the mirror the next morning, and smirks. She’s pretty much never been this determined to achieve something since she was twenty three. She pulls her hair tight away from her face in a way that she knows looks both intimidating _and_ gorgeous, and smirks at herself in the mirror.

She has it all planned before Rachel even walks into the classroom. She sets her students a particularly difficult, strenuous set of exercises and waits, Cassie’s unusual silence drawing out a growing apprehension from Rachel, if the unnerved glances she keeps throwing her across the dance hall are any indicator.

In the end, though, Cassie can barely manage fifteen minutes until the desire to tear Rachel down overwhelms her, and she winds her way slowly through the students towards her prey. She surveys Rachel’s dancing, unashamedly checking out her ass as she runs her eyes down her body; and there it is again, that familiar rush. Rachel eyes her nervously as she gets closer and she tries not to smirk as she revels in the power she has over this girl. She gives out some kind of generic criticism and she’s fully intending to draw this out as long as possible, but then Rachel gives in almost _instantly_ and Cassie kind of flips because _for fucks sake,_ she’s so tired of this now.

“Stop,” she says in a bored voice. “Everybody stop. Because that’s what happens when you’re _thirsty_ on Broadway.” She turns round to Rachel who’s staring at her in shocked disbelief, and she kind of knows she’s being petty and ridiculous, but she just doesn’t give a fuck when Schwimmer deserves _everything_ she gets.

“I’m not being a diva, I’m just-I’m dehydrated,” Rachel tries to tell her, but she gives up trying to justify herself because she knows as well as Cassie does this is just an excuse for something else.

It kind of comes out when Cassie scathingly puts down her attempts to compete with NYADAs reigning prodigy, and Cassie knows the rest of the class watching probably think this is some kind of bizarre insecure-off.

(It’s truer than she wants to admit, but so are a lot of things when it comes to Rachel.)

“I’ve kept up with you!” Rachel insists, and Cassie freezes because she _knows_ Rachel’s not talking about her dancing, and that’s not a line she should fucking cross.

(Not in public. Not out loud.)

Rachel backtracks. “I just meant with everything that you’ve _thrown_ at me!”

Cassie whips round and dismantles her swiftly, and Rachel’s face falls when Cassie makes it clear Rachel has _nothing_ on her, because she’s just fucking _doing her job_.

“It’s not my fault you don’t understand my methods,” Cassie almost whispers, because this is not a conversation she wants anyone else to be party to.

“It’s not my fault you can’t see how good I’ve become,” Rachel counters firmly, and yeah, Cassie will meet that challenge. And she knows _exactly_ how.

“Chicago. Opening number. You familiar with it?”

Rachel shrugs.

“Anyone else here can join in if they like, but this is between the platypus and me.”

Rachel actually fucking _laughs_ at that, and yeah, it’s so on.

Rachel struts determinedly towards her as the opening chords ring out and she smirks, hands on hips before she silences her with a finger and makes it clear she and _only_ she is in control of this performance. As soon as the first notes leave her lips she slips into her role effortlessly, and damn she knows how good she is. She smirks as she draws cheers from the crowd of students around her but honestly, she could do this in her sleep. What Cassie focuses on is Rachel, smirking at her nonchalant shrug and watching for the reaction she _knows_ is coming.

She’s spun round onto her male dancer’s back and she turns and smoulders cheekily at Rachel, letting her know she can _never_ beat this. It’s not just her talent; it’s her unabashed sexuality that makes Rachel so uncomfortable, the power her attraction to Cassie she can hold over her, what makes her bite her lip and look away as Cassie spreads her legs high in the air.

Cassie expects her to stumble in defeat after that, but when she turns round Rachel is dancing lightly towards her, and her confident demeanour slips for a moment as Rachel writhes across the floor and her heart skips a beat. And damn Rachel _knows_ as well, as she throws her hair over her shoulder and shoots Cassie a dark look. Cassie tries to keep her focus, standing firm with her hands on her hips as she eyes Rachel’s dancing sceptically… but something in her expression draws out a smirk from Rachel, who pulls the hips of the girl in front towards her and _christ_ Schwimmer thrusting amongst several scantily clad girls turns her on so much more than she should. Her heart hammers in her chest and her entire body tingles and when did Schwimmer get this _gay_?

Rachel grins at her and a smirk fights Cassie’s pursed lips because there it is again, that little exchange of secrets that says Rachel knows _exactly_ what she’s doing to her, and she’s determined to win this game just as much as Cassie is. It’s not going to happen though; so Cassie smoulders back at Rachel and waits for her revenge. She can’t take her eyes of her, though, and Rachel shimmies her chest towards Cassie she honest to god has to push her legs together to do something about the growing ache in between them. Rachel’s confidence grows, as she shakes off her insecurities and starts to _perform_ , throwing herself against the barre and letting herself be dragged across the floor, watching for Cassie’s reaction.

But Cassie’s already leapt over the barre and is ready to fight back, sweeping Rachel’s writhing dancing aside as she performs a set of quick, intricate hops and turns across the dance floor, sliding down into her trademark splits. She smirks as she’s pulled up from the floor because she _knows_ she’s just hit Rachel’s weak spot… but she smirk dies on her lips as she sees Rachel miming downing a shot as she sings _right up here is where I store the juice_ and did she _really fucking go there?_

Rachel is deluded in her triumph as Cassie switches gears and slides a hand around her waist, and Rachel freezes. She can smell her perfume and sweat and something else and it’s an overwhelming aphrodisiac as she drags Rachel across the floor, singing passionately to her as they go. She’s not sure if it’s Rachel’s lack of technique or the full implication of the words _come on babe we’re gonna brush the sky_ that has Rachel stumbling, but Cassie knows she’s found her weakness. Her heart hammers at the proximity and her steely control snaps, and she knows that Rachel is her weakness too but she just doesn’t _care_ when she’s this close to her.

She spins a stunned Rachel out and then back towards her and shows her _exactly_ how good she is when she kicks her leg high in the air. Rachel’s eyes darken and her mouth opens slightly and she looks _so_ turned on; and so Cassie turns and falls into her arms, Rachel’s arms coming round to catch her and brushing her breasts at the same as Cassie just _collapses_ into her, skin on skin and Rachel’s breasts dragging against her before she leaps away again and jumps into the arms of her waiting dancers. Rachel’s left standing waiting on the floor, staring kind of dumbstruck at Cassie’s body, and then she drops down and opens her legs to give Rachel such an unabashed view of her crotch she’s basically offering herself to her then and there, and she grins as Rachel looks away in embarrassment, her cheeks glowing. Cassie grabs the dancers hands and somersaults under herself, but when she looks up it’s in disbelief because Rachel just _walked away from her_.

She stalks after her as the music builds, _determined_ to have her before this is over and she circles her singing in her ear _no, I’m no one’s wife_ but Rachel laughs as she refuses to be beaten and they fight each other note for note, spinning round the dance hall as the song reaches its climax. They turn to face each other, belting out the last note as Cassie pushes everyone away and she _knows_ she’s won this.

The music ends abrubtly and it’s just them less than a metre apart, panting at each other. Rachel’s eyes are wild and her skin is flushed and Cassie has to take a deep breath to steady herself because she is literally a hair’s breadth from publicly jumping her student. She surveys Rachel’s body unashamedly, noting with pleasure just _how_ turned on she is, and yeah, she’s beaten her.

She tells Rachel as much before she moves away, closing her eyes for a second behind Rachel’s back so she can’t see just how much Cassie’s control is hanging by a thread.

“Maybe you’re right, maybe I’m not as good of a dancer as you are,” Rachel concedes and that’s just _hilarious_. “But I’m just as good of a singer,” she adds, and there’s nothing Cassie can say to that for a moment because she _knows_ , uppity little bitch, that it’s true. But she’s not about to let Rachel have that; she’s not going to be dismantled when she just so completely _dominated_ Rachel in that dance; and how does she still have any fight left? How is she not _begging_ at Cassie’s knees by now?

“Do you think anyone in here believes that?” Cassie asks her, and it’s a low blow, using the pretty worthless opinions of the crowd to get to Rachel. But it works, for a split second, and she fights on, “Because there’s a big difference between self-confidence and _delusion_.”

Rachel’s looking at her feet and Cassie thinks for a split-second she’s about to cry, but then she does something so completely unexpected.

“No one else has to believe it,” she says softly and earnestly. “No one but me.” And she smiles to herself, and Cassie can’t help smiling slightly back in disbelief and awe (and admiration) that Rachel can remain so determinedly _believing_ in herself, despite the entire room being against her. She feels something shift, and she knows resolutely that Rachel hasn’t been beaten. She hasn’t been beaten at all.

“But thank you, you actually did teach me something,” Rachel continues, and Cassie’s eyes narrow slightly because she knows, she _knows_ that the slightest blow from Rachel would just cut her apart right now. But Rachel isn’t thinking about Cassie.

“Which is that, if I’m going to win this showcase, the only way I’m going to do that is with my voice.”

And she turns on her heel and walks out of the dance hall, leaving Cassie wonder bitterly how Rachel can leave this with so much damn integrity. 

*

She spends most of the rest of the day in her office, lying on her sofa and playing with her cane as she replays the morning’s heated lesson again and again in her head. She searches furiously through her memory for signs that Rachel had any attraction to her at _all_ , but every time she grasps at something her mind just takes her back to the finite look on Rachel’s face as she walked away from Cassie.

She expected a lot of things, but somehow she didn’t expect _that_. Especially not even leaving in defeat… Rachel looked like she had _overcome_.

Cassie’s frustration builds and builds, but somehow in the sober light of day, her mind is stubbornly holding out for Rachel, and it completely blindsides Cassie, because she doesn’t even know what it’s holding out _for_. She’s always been good at figuring out what she’s feeling about two seconds _after_ she’s fucked everything up anyway; which is pretty much why she’s shut off all emotions since they ruined her career.

She wasn’t planning on going to the Winter Showcase at-fucking-all, but she needs to see Schwimmer. She needs to see what God-given talent she apparently has that made her confident enough to _walk out of Cassie’s class_. Her stomach flips at the idea of seeing Rachel performing, which is just fucking great, so she goes home and starts getting ready, just to give herself some kind of distraction.

She takes like, five hours, but it’s totally worth it, because she looks _incredible_ , all old Hollywood glamour, because she knows that it’s something Schwimmer would never be able to pull off… or expect her to be able to either, seeing as she’s got like, 60% more skin covered than usual.

Cassie hides somewhere in the back of the Round Room, and plays with the long tassles on her dress as she tries not to look too bored. Then Carmen announces _Miss Rachel Berry_ and Cassie looks up with a start. What appears to be a small, brunette angel walks into the spotlight and beams shly at the audience, and Cassie’s heart actually fucking stops.

She looks… _christ_. She looks _beautiful._

And then she starts to sing.

Cassie’s entire body breaks out in goose bumps, as Rachel’s voice rings out across the room with such finely tuned delicacy and accuracy that Cassie can barely believe she’s looking at the same girl who stumbles over her pliés. Rachel is _transformed_ ; she entirely embodies the performance and she’s clearly so entirely born to just stand _singing_ like this that Cassie can’t actually breathe.

And she knows, she _knows_ that song is for her and her heart _hurts_ , because Rachel apparently didn’t forget her at all.

(She stood up and did exactly what Cassie expects of only the very best of her students and showed her _exactly_ what makes her so special; and that silent gift hits her so much more than any words do.)

The entire audience jumps to its feet in applause and it reminds Cassie so much of her youth that she actually has to bite her cheek in order to stop herself from crying. Rachel looks so completely astounded at the applause that for a moment Cassie is entirely racked with guilt. She desperately wishes Rachel would look over but at the same time the last thing she wants is to be seen like this. She closes her eyes from a moment and steels herself, pushing her emotions back down far inside.

(It’s not nearly far enough.)

Rachel wins, obviously, and she just about keeps her jealously in check until Rachel’s flatmate and _Brody_ throw themselves at her and yeah – she just can’t watch that. She slides out the door as the crowd begins to disperse, walking as fast she can through the back of the school just to get _away._

“Cassandra?”

Cassie stops in her tracks and whips round to see Rachel hurrying up behind her. Rachel’s eyes widen suddenly as they rake over Cassie’s body, her pace slowing to almost a halt.

“I… wow. You look,” Rachel shakes herself, and then says earnestly, “You look really beautiful.”

Cassie stands impassively.

“What do you want, Schwimmer?” she asks coldly. “Have you come to wave your little trophy at me?”

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Rachel tells her, with a kind of shrug. “Because I could never have got this without you. All the... shouting and the criticism, it’s made me into the performer I am today.”

Cassie snorts at that, because _seriously_.

“Schwimmer, all the plastic trophies in the world are not going to negate your arrogance that _far_ exceeds your level of a talent.”

Rachel growls and something seems to kind of snap.

“Why are you being so _unreasonable_?  You know what, you are kidding yourself if you think this is just about doing your job!” Rachel cries. Cassie’s eyes narrow and Rachel has the decency to look a little scared.

“What are you suggesting?” Cassie says slowly, her heart hammering because is Schwimmer _really_ going to fucking go there?

“Nothing,” Rachel backtracks, and her heart sinks a little. “I just…” she pauses, rolling her eyes at herself, but then she seems to gain some kind of guts from nowhere and looks Cassie straight in the eye and says, “You know I just thought that we were… but it’s just me being ridiculous, as if I could ever be good enough for _Cassandra July_.”

Cassie _freezes_ , staring in cold disbelief at Rachel because she _can’t_ mean… But Rachel angrily brushes her hair aside and rolls her eyes again, and she honestly has absolutely no fucking _idea_ what Rachel has just said to her but she needs to do _something_ about all the emotions that are about to boil over inside her so she takes two steps forward to grab Rachel’s head roughly between her hands and pull her mouth towards her.

It’s absolutely the right thing to do, because Rachel just _melts_ into her and wraps her arms around Cassie’s waist, kissing her fiercely back. It’s hot and wet and so un-coordinated because there’s so much Cassie just _needs_ and all at once, and Rachel seems to feel it to as she kisses Cassie just as passionately back, her arms running over Cassie’s back and squeezing at her bum until she actually _groans_ and grinds her hips against Rachel’s. She can feel Rachel grinning against her lips as she pulls Cassie impossibly closer and she spares a brain cell to revel in the fact that Rachel wants this just as much as she does.

“Come on,” says Cassie breathlessly, breaking the kiss. Rachel’s lips are pouting and bruised and her hair is a mess from where Cassie’s hands have been through it and she’s just panting at her with wide, dark eyes and Cassie needs her _alone_ and _now_.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Cassie asks her as she leads her quickly out the back of NYADA.

“Um, I…” Rachel says huskily, but doesn’t seem capable of forming anything coherent. Cassie smirks.

“Because you might want to call and let them know it’s not happening,” Cassie tells her, sticking out her hand for a cab and then pulling Rachel flush towards her. “Unless you have any objections?” she asks sultrily, cocking an eyebrow.

“God no,” Rachel breathes, and it’s just about the sexiest thing Cassie’s ever heard.

 *

Cassie’s imagined having sex with Rachel – god, _so_ many times now – but none of her fantasies ever captured exactly how she feels now, this need to _devour_ her that overwhelms absolutely everything else.

Cassie tugs her roughly into the loft and barely slams the door shut before she pushes her back against the wall, hands running up Rachel’s sides. Rachel grabs at her butt and she moans into her mouth, hips pressing together as they grind against the wall.

“God Cassie,” Rachel gasps as Cassie moves to suck and nip at her neck, and Cassie growls.

“Say that again,” she orders huskily, tucking at Rachel’s ear, and when she does, Cassie hitches Rachel's dress up, wraps her arms round her waist and lifts her up effortlessly. Rachel laughs breathlessly as she throws her legs and arms round Cassie, kissing her hotly. They stumble across Cassie’s loft to her bedroom, where Cassie dumps Rachel somewhat unceremoniously on her bed, before stepping back to peel off her dress.

When she’s done she looks up at Rachel, only to see her lying frozen on the bed, staring with wild eyes at Cassie’s naked form, her mouth hanging slightly open. Cassie smirks, and, yeah, she’s seen Rachel stare before, but not like _this_. She feels her breath catch in her throat for a moment, before she remembers she has a task in hand.

“Enjoying the view, Schwim?” she asks, cocking an eyebrow, and then crawls onto the bed and slides up Rachel’s body until her hairs falling down to brush at Rachel’s cheeks.

“Well, I think you owe me. After all the times I’ve caught you checking out my ass in the mirror,” Rachel tells her smoothly.

 _That little bitch_.

Cassie’s eyes narrow and she swoops down to bite Rachel’s bottom lip before darting out her tongue to soften the sting. Rachel gasps and pulls Cassie down closer, but she’s pretty much had enough of Rachel being fully clothed by now.

“Off,” she orders breathlessly, tugging at Rachel’s dress. They pull it up over Rachel’s hips but she slaps at Cassie’s hand.

“Careful! It cost me $300 to rent!”

Cassie rolls her eyes, because she owns like, _jumpers_ that cost that. But then Rachel slides the silky fabric up over her head and Cassie’s left breathless because of _course_ Rachel’s not wearing a bra. Rachel stares up at her with wide eyes and she just looks so _open_ , so ready to absolutely give herself to Cassie like she’s been preparing herself for this moment all along.

Cassie leans down to kiss her before her emotions overwhelm her completely, hands running up Rachel’s body to rub at her breasts. Rachel arches up into Cassie’s hand and she dips her head down to suck at Rachel’s nipple, her tongue drawing tight circles as her hand runs over the soft skin.

Her breasts are _perfect_ , and Cassie licks and nips like she’s worshipping them. Rachel unravels at her hands, gasping and moaning as a light sheen of sweat appears on her heaving chest. It’s like a drug, and all Cassie can think is _I need more_.

Cassie’s fingers begin to tiptoe down Rachel’s side, followed by her mouth, and Rachel’s breathing becomes more erratic as she gets lower and lower. She can _smell_ her now, nipping a path down the inside of Rachel’s thigh. Her hands tug at Cassie’s hair as she arches up more violently, stretching her legs wide in desperation.

“Oh my god _Cassie_ ,” Rachel wails in desperation, as Cassie blows gently over her soaking underwear. Hearing Rachel say her name like that with such unbridled want just does something to her, and she leans forward to run her tongue flatly up Rachel’s crotch, who lets out a kind of sob. It’s the best kind of torture, and part of Cassie wants to see how far she can take that, but…

She basically rips Rachel’s underwear off and goes down, sliding her tongue slowly over Rachel, who shakes with need. She licks deeper and longer as Rachel’s hands wind through her hair, throwing a leg over her shoulder, and then Cassie moves up to suck on Rachel’s clit _hard_ and Rachel screams. Cassie rolls her tongue over in tight circles, Rachel undulating against her face with harsh whimpers and groans.

Rachel’s entirely at her mercy, her whole body writhing as she desperately tries to get off and _christ,_ she didn’t think Schwimmer could actually get any sexier, but it’s basically one of the best things she’s ever seen. She knows, she _knows_ that no one could ever do this for Rachel like she does, and she wants Rachel to know it too.

She’s so close now, her whole body drawn up tense and shaking as her whimpers get higher and higher. Cassie slides two fingers into where she’s hot and tight and curls them _torturously_ back out again, and Rachel falls apart, clenching and spasming around her as she screams Cassie’s name. She keeps sucking and licking until Rachel rides out her orgasm, and lies limp and damp against the covers with an arm thrown up behind her, panting.

Cassie moves back up her body to kiss her, hovering over her breathlessly as she stares down at Rachel, somehow terrified for a moment that she wasn’t goodenough. Rachel’s looking back up at her in a kind of wonderment, like she’s got a thousand questions running through her mind, but Cassie leans down and kisses her deeply before she has a chance to ask them. It seems to be enough for Rachel, who runs a hand softly over Cassie’s shoulder, and then without warning pushes her over until Rachel’s on top of her, her knee pressing up against Cassie’s damp crotch.

“So Miss July,” Rachel husks in her ear, and Cassie lets out a low chuckle as she pushes her hips down against Rachel’s leg. “How exactly is my body moving now?”

Cassie actually fucking _growls_ as something just takes hold of her at that, and she pushes Rachel back under her and slides two fingers into her _hard_. Rachel kind of yelps and gasps, and looks up at Cassie with those wild eyes again, before she rams her hips down and her head tips back against the pillow. She fucks her, hard and fast, leaning into her shoulder as she uses the fall force of her body to draw out the whimpers and groans that she’s suddenly become so addicted to. Then she feels Rachel hand push at her legs which kind of part instinctively, and when she slides two fingers in and curls upwards Cassie nearly fucking _collapses._

Rachel drags them out torturously slowly and Cassie fucking whimpers, before Rachel slams them back in again and fucks her determinedly. It’s like some kind of twisted power struggle, matching each other thrust for thrust as they stare at each other, and Cassie _always_ wins, except she’s so fucking close already and then Rachel kind of twists her fingers and _oh christ._

She screams as she comes so hard she can barely _breathe_ , thrusting hard against Rachel’s hand and she kind of distantly feels her come apart underneath her own fingers as she spasms.  They collapse onto each other, completely spent as Cassie slides her sticky fingers up Rachel’s body to rest against her breasts.

They don’t say anything for a full ten minutes – and figuring out how to finally shut Schwimmer up is just _another_ reason she should have been doing this ages ago.

“I actually thought you were going to kill me at one point,” Rachel says eventually, absent-mindedly playing with Cassie’s hair - which, what?

Cassie chuckles, and slides off Rachel to lie next to her. She still has one arm round her, and Rachel rolls over and kind of nestles into her, throwing a leg over her waist. Cassie freezes for a moment, but she can still feel how hot and wet Rachel is against her thigh, and she’s _exhausted,_ so she leaves it. 

*

Cassie wakes up in the morning to an empty bed.

Her heart actually _clenches_ when she realises, and then relief washes over her because that’s one morning-after minefield she just does not want to navigate.  She lies back against the pillow, kind of grinning to herself, and completely ignores the heavy feeling settling in her chest that it was apparently just a massive fucking mistake to Rachel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She’s got no real frame of reference, so she can’t tell for sure if the way Cassie so casually invades her personal space every time she adjusts Rachel’s frame; the way her fingers sometimes linger a little longer than seems strictly necessary; the way she stares so intensely at Rachel she feels as if she’s naked in the middle of the dance hall; if any of these things mean anything. But whatever it is, she doesn’t want it to stop._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's reviewed and commented so far, it's really spurred me on to write faster, so keep them coming!
> 
> Also, a special thank you to semixtina and texaswatermelon, whose help with Faberry/Julyberry has been invaluable.

Rachel doesn’t cry. She doesn’t cry in the taxi on the way home (because _god_ knows she can’t take the Subway in this dress); she doesn’t cry when she’s in the shower and discovers all the ways that Cassie’s marked her skin; she doesn’t cry when Kurt doesn’t probe about where she went the night before but just asks if she’s _ok_ ; she doesn’t cry when she’s in the plane flying away from New York and the whole mess of her life she’s made this term.

 It’s not until late that night when she’s rifling through her nightstand that she finds a plane ticket from New York to Columbus for _Miss Schwimmer_ and she breaks down and _sobs_  

*

 Her first weeks in New York are scary and confusing and really kind of lonely, but she’s living a few subway stops away from Broadway and it’s basically her _birth right_. So she keeps her chin held high and promises herself she’ll settle in in no time.

 NYADA is… interesting. It’s nothing like what she’d expected (she’d had some kind of lame fantasy that she’d never admitted to _anyone_ that she’d sort of walk in and be recognised instantly as someone who belonged, but it hasn’t really worked like that. Not yet, anyway). She barely sleeps the night before classes begin, but when she cautiously makes her way towards one of the dance halls Monday morning, she reassures herself that she’s been dancing since she could _walk_ , and she’ll obviously be fine. It almost works until she reaches the dance hall, and feels more than she has at any point in New York that she’s stepped into a different world.

Her dance teacher is _gorgeous_ ; Hollywood, red carpet, traffic collision-causing gorgeous. Her long, wavy blonde hair and perfect make-up are not so different from some of the more glamorous women Rachel’s ogled on the streets of New York; but the way she saunters around the classroom with the lazy grace of a panther, surveying her terrified students with sharp, devastatingly sexy eyes that Rachel’s sure capture every tiny error… she’s like no one Rachel’s ever met before.

It’s incredibly intimidating, but she’s never been one to back down from a challenge, so she lifts her chin and sets herself the challenge of impressing her teacher. As the class begins though, it becomes increasingly obvious that Cassandra July is impressed by _no one_ , and instead seems to take some kind of sick joy in wielding her power over her students with vicious taunts.

(Rachel’s heard about teachers like these from the NYADA forums, and it’s always struck her as _incredibly_ pathetic.)

When Cassandra makes a ridiculously unprofessional jibe at a girl in front of her, Rachel can’t help but roll her eyes, confident she’s away from Cassandra’s scrutinising gaze. But Cassandra really _does_ notice everything, and moments later she’s being circled with the fall force of Cassandra’s intense examination. She’s even more intimidating up close, where Rachel can smell the scent of her perfume and see the faintest flush from the late summer heat on her exposed chest, and Rachel’s heart hammers. 

“Little Miss… David Schwimmer,” Cassandra christens her, with an all too knowing glint in her eyes, like she’s seen through Rachel’s pretences already.

Rachel honestly doesn’t think it can get much worse, but a day later she opens her mouth without thinking and suddenly her teacher’s launching into the most overwhelming display of raw sexuality she’s ever seen in her life. She’s basically _trapped_ on her own bearing the full force of it, and it’s not just awkward, it’s terrifying.

She doesn’t know what she’s seeing or feeling throughout the whole dance; she doesn’t know where to look or what to think, because Cassandra’s being dragged across the floor and throwing her legs open and rolling her hips and tossing her hair and it all seems to be directed at _her_.

It’s almost like Cassandra knows a secret Rachel’s been keeping for a long, long time, shooting her saucy grins across the room as she gleefully exploits it. There’s a look in Cassandra’s eyes that says _you can’t even begin to imagine what I could do to you_ , and Rachel’s honestly never been more intimidated by anyone in her life.

It doesn’t stop Rachel from trying to impress her, though, because her defining characteristic (aside from her voice) is her inability to be beaten by adversity.

But Cassandra isn’t fazed, isn’t as impressed as every other teacher she’s ever met, isn’t worn down by Rachel’s relentless, earnest efforts. She throws a few scraps of approval here and there, just when Rachel feels like she’s clinging on for dear life, and it’s enough to make her renew her efforts to climb right to the top.

(She puts the shivers she gets whenever Cassandra leans too close down to nerves, and her continued presence in her thoughts down to a desire to impress her, and wonders faintly what Quinn would do if she were here.)

*

The most ridiculous thing is that she could possibly think that with one time she’d just get _over_ it; that she’d stop staring at Cassie’s legs in class and stop thinking about them the entire Subway journey home and stop having to get herself off every night because she’s so damn _frustrated._  

She’d imagined sleeping with Cassie a thousand times over but in none of her fantasies had Cassie ever been… _god_ so unashamedly _worshipping_ of her. She didn’t expect Cassie to make her feel so incomparably beautiful, or for her to be so desperate to rack her entire body with pleasure; she didn’t expect to look up at Cassie’s eyes to see them so brimming with emotions that they threatened to overspill in tears.

It’s just too much, after weeks of being abused and criticised, her confidence undermined and driven to borderline paranoia about her talent. She doesn’t know how to reconcile the woman who held her in such low-esteem she enjoyed toying with her mental state, with the one who sobbed Rachel’s name as she came and clung onto her so hard she left bruises.

She woke up halfway through the night with her body entwined with Cassie’s, snuggling into each other and it was just _suffocating_. So she slid out from underneath her, tugged on her dress and crept out the apartment; but not before she’d glanced back at Cassie peacefully asleep with a small smile tugging at her lips, and looking basically nothing like the woman she thought she’d known for four months.

*

When Kurt shows her the video of _Crazy July_ something clicks into place, and indignant anger grows inside her that Cassandra’s being so _unreasonable_ just over petty bitterness and jealousy. She knows being ‘sexy’ isn’t her strong point – god knows McKinley taught her that much – but she’s nothing if not a natural born performer, and she’s determined to give Cassandra a show good enough to convince her she’s got what it takes to tango.

(It doesn’t occur to her until she’s running through outfit choices in front of her mirror that this is something of a _seduction_ , but she pushes the thought to the back of her mind and concentrates on the various lipsticks in front of her.)

She _knows_ she looks good; she doesn’t need Brody’s stammering greeting to tell her, but it makes her blush and smile shyly anyway. But Cassandra shatters any illusions of approval the moment Rachel walks in the door, and it’s all Rachel can do not to cry out in frustration.

She doesn’t miss the flicker of jealously in Cassandra’s eyes when she sees Brody helping her, nor the thinly veiled rapport between the two of them.

(Something about that makes her want Brody even more; because why should _Cassandra July_ have everything?)

Performing in front of Cassandra is _hard_ , so much harder than she thought it would be; so much more nerve-wracking, somehow, than Nationals, when she was performing to a crowd of hundreds. Maybe it’s the force of Cassandra’s undivided attention, the carelessly dismissive way she regards Rachel as she toys with her cane, as if she already knows where this performance is headed. Rachel focuses, though, and once the song builds up and she’s able to show off her voice, her confidence grows a little and she relaxes into the song.

And maybe she’s imagining it, but Cassandra starts to look a little… transfixed. Every time Rachel looks over she notices Cassandra’s narrowed eyes are becoming more and more glassy and unfocused, and her steely control seems to be waning a little as she wriggles around in her seat. Some part of Rachel not focussed on performing registers it as attraction, and it spurs her on even more. She writhes on tables and grinds up against Brody in an attempt to break through Cassandra’s control and finally impress her; and when she finishes breathlessly, she honestly thinks she’s done it.

So when Cassandra effortlessly, cruelly dismantles her _again_ …

She snaps.

She’s just spent the past four minutes trying to prove to Cassandra she’s _not that innocent_ , but it’s the brutally accurate attack that demonstrates that, and when Cassandra’s jaw sets in fury she’s honest to god _terrified_. Literally, rooted to the spot in fear, and it’s not until she’s yelled at a second time she actually moves.

 

Brody comforts her after class and insists it’s not as bad as she thinks; that Cassie’s (Cassie?) like an explosion if you push the wrong buttons, but she always calms down when the adrenaline’s worn off and stops caring after a few days.

Rachel somehow doesn’t think Cassandra’s going to stop caring from the sheer fury that seemed to be emanating from her in that classroom. She knows she’s overstepped a line, just as she did so many times at McKinley, so she does what she became so accustomed to doing then; sucks up her pride, and goes to apologise 

It’s not at _all_ how she expected, because Cassandra – Cassie – is somehow so much softer and more human on her own, and she just wanted things too much, like Rachel does.

(For a moment she thinks they’re kind of alike, which terrifies her and exhilarates her at the same time.)

The atmosphere in the room has taken on a strangely intimate vibe, and when Cassie shoots her a warm smile, like she’s part of some private joke, Rachel’s heart skips a beat. Cassie beckons her over to help her stretch, and Rachel’s so scared she feels like she’s treading on egg shells. It’s partly because she doesn’t know whether she’s about to be chucked out of class for good, but…

She’s basically being invited into the personal space of this flawlessly gorgeous woman – and she _knows_ it’s just stretching – but she just can’t help staring at the body she’s now moving her hands over, and somewhere in the back of her mind she feels like that’s what Cassie wants.

(And even though she hesitates when Cassie waves at her to move her hands onto her _butt_ , she can’t deny that she’s kind of curious.)

It’s entirely unchartered territory for Rachel, and she honestly has no idea what’s about to happen next. But then Cassie gives her a second chance and dismisses her almost affectionately, and it’s not until she’s leaving she realises how much she wants Cassie to let her stay.

When she goes home that night she spends the evening revaluating her dance wear, and picks out the few things she thinks Cassie would deem acceptable. She hesitates for a moment when she surveys herself in the mirror the next morning, hair perfectly waved around her shoulders and bright red lipstick lining her lips, and wonders exactly who she’s turning into. Then she purses her lips and lifts her chin, and heads out to continue her fight.

A few days later Cassie sends one of the best dancers in the class over to her, and it takes a few seconds before she realises he’s asking to dance with _her_. She shoots Cassie a shy smile as she’s led across the dance floor, which she could have sworn Cassie returned, before she relaxes into the dance, and for the rest of lesson, almost forgets about Cassie altogether.

Rachel’s buzzing all the way home, and every time she glances at her reflection in the subway window she has to bite back a grin. Something inside of her readjusts and it gives her enough confidence to paint over the large _Finn_ on the wall of their loft that evening.

*

Rachel spends her first night back in Lima tossing and turning in her sheets, until she finally falls into a fitful sleep around 4am. She dreams of Cassie, grinning up at her from in between her legs as waves of pleasure wash over her.

“God Schwimmer, you look like a constipated _cow_ ,” Cassie laughs, and Rachel looks up to see her moving away from her in disgust, leaving Rachel lying naked in the middle of the classroom as her classmates burst into taunting laughter.

“Well, what did you expect?” Cassie cackles.

Rachel wakes up with a gasp, panting and sweating. She clutches her chest in horror for a moment, until her brain catches up with reality. Then she curls back up under her covers and lies in vain trying to sleep, until her dads come and wake her a few hours later. If they notice how exhausted she looks, they don’t ask, and Rachel doesn’t volunteer anything.

She couldn’t tell them, obviously. She couldn’t tell Kurt, she couldn’t tell _anyone_ what had happened, because who could possibly understand? _I know my dance teacher’s been slowly tearing my self-confidence to shreds for the past term but she fucked me like she never wanted to do anything else again and I’m starting to feel like maybe I don’t want her to_.

Some part of her knows not one of her friends would even think about judging her; but she just can’t quite admit what she’s been in denial about for months now is actually a real, tangible thing that she’s completely overwhelmed by.

*

Rachel’s desire to impress Cassie doesn’t dwindle after some – albeit small – recognition. She works harder than ever, dancing late into the evening when the dance hall is empty and no one’s around to judge her.

Cassie’s still as intimidating as ever, but something about the softer side she revealed to her that afternoon makes Rachel feel like she’s been let in on a little-known secret. She can’t forget the smile Cassie beamed at her over her shoulder, or her determination to make sure Rachel didn’t make the same mistakes she had.

But more than anything Rachel can’t forget the swirling pit of nerves in her stomach when a stretching Cassie beckoned her over, or the feeling of heat rushing to her cheeks when she pressed down on Cassie’s hips, or how she couldn’t help but _stare_ when Cassie’s butt was suddenly right in her face. She knows by now that Cassie isn’t only well aware of the effects of her sexuality, but uses it mercilessly to her advantage; and she can’t quite shake the feeling that Cassie was kind of… _pushing_ her somewhere she wasn’t entirely sure she was opposed to going.

Something sort of changes after that afternoon, though, and it seems so natural but so disconcerting all at once that Rachel really doesn’t know what to do with it.

She’s got no real frame of reference, so she can’t tell for sure if the way Cassie so casually invades her personal space every time she adjusts Rachel’s frame; the way her fingers sometimes linger a little longer than seems _strictly_ necessary; the way she stares so intensely at Rachel she feels as if she’s naked in the middle of the dance hall; if any of these things _mean_ anything. But whatever it is, she doesn’t want it to stop.

(She thinks back to the strokes and caresses Brittany and Santana used to exchange in the choir room, but this is nothing like that, it’s nothing like that at all.)

The more she’s around Cassie, though, the more she can’t help but stare. It doesn’t bother her, because girls have always been pretty, and she’s always liked to look. Sometimes Cassie catches her, though, and the almost imperceptible smirk tugging at her lips makes Rachel feel like she’s entering into a game where she knows absolutely none of the rules.

*

She sees her closest friends in phases, because she feels so conflicted about so much now that she actually needs time to gain strength before the next emotional upheaval.

The first of which is Quinn, who appears at her front door the day after Rachel gets back, beaming. She’s always looked mature, and she’s _always_ looked beautiful, but there’s something in her easy expression that tells Rachel she’s kind of settled into herself.

“I’ve missed you so much!” Rachel cries, tackle hugging her. Quinn laughs.

“Me too, where have you been stranger?” she asks, poking her in the ribs. It’s jokey, but Rachel can see the slight hurt in Quinn’s eyes and a wave of guilt hits her.

“Quinn I’m so sorry, this term has just been…”

She gestures wildly with her hand, and Quinn seems to understand.

“Tell me everything about New York,” she says, when they sit down on Rachel’s bed. It’s so like the last few months of living in Lima, when Quinn used to come over to her house more and more and Rachel would find herself bearing all her secrets and worries and hopes without even realising.

She looks up at Quinn, and she wants _desperately_ to tell her about Cassie; but she can’t fight the feeling it would be revealing some kind of betrayal, and the words just die in her throat.

(She should be so much more surprised than she is, that this feeling is just another she’s been running away from.)

So she tells her almost everything else, instead, and it’s so easy and Rachel finds herself filled with the kind of airy happiness she always gets around Quinn. For a little while she really is back in Lima, in a safe, rosy bubble.

“Actually, I’ve kind of been seeing someone,” Quinn says slowly, with a small smile.

The bubble pops.

“Oh, Quinn, that’s amazing!” Rachel says, trying for a smile, but it’s been too long since she’s had to play this game and she knows she’s not convincing at all. “Who is he, what’s he like?”

“She’s actually a girl,” Quinn says quietly, and something in Rachel’s heart kind of explodes and her ears are buzzing so loud she hears basically none of what Quinn’s now gabbling out.

“… but she’s so nice, I’d love you guys to meet,” Quinn finishes, smiling shyly at Rachel.

“Yeah, of course!” Rachel insists, promising to come and visit Yale as soon as she can.

Quinn doesn’t leave til gone midnight, and Rachel stays awake for hours after that, leaning her pounding head against the cool glass as she tries to reconcile the feeling that she’d wanted something so much without even _realising_ , with one that the moment’s kind of slipped by without her even noticing.

The space waiting in Rachel’s life that was waiting to be filled by Quinn has morphed into a space waiting for something else, and she just can’t pretend anymore that it’s Brody.

*

New York rewrites everything she’d ever been so sure about before. Like, talent is more important than looks. In NYADA, everyone’s talented, and being able to sing just isn’t good enough anymore.

And it’s _not_ just about Cassie. She’s just so tired of being judged before she’s able to open her mouth and prove how good she is. And honestly, she’s always promised herself she’d do almost anything to break into the business, and a little makeover isn’t against any of her ethical principles; it’s just another way of helping her get ahead in an industry that is so _incredibly_ shallow and judgemental.

(NYADA has taught her that much.)

She knows how good she looks, and when she glances in the mirror as she’s stretching and tousles her hair, she feels like she can _almost_ compete with Cassie.

(The look on Cassie’s face when she walks into class the next day, is memorable, to say the least. Even more so is the feeling of Cassie’s fingers just _brushing_ her crotch as she holds herself in the splits, and Rachel wonders whether it’s some twisted sign of approval.)

Brody seems to approve, too.

“I think it’s the other way around. I think now, your outside has caught up to how you feel about yourself,” Brody tells her, and for a second she almost believes him. He’s so into her, and she’s starting to give way a little more each day, because when she’s around him she actually _feels_ like the girl he seems to see her as; instead of the lonely, scared and insecure girl she feels the rest of the time.

It’s all going so perfectly until Finn turns up at her door.

*

Finn takes her out for coffee at the Lima Bean a few days later, which is so mature it surprises her. It’s polite and awkward and he looks at her like he doesn’t even know her anymore; which is entirely true and untrue at the same time. So much of her just wants to throw herself into his arms and cry in their relative safety, because after all this time he’s _still_ the one she associates that with. She’s so close to spilling her secrets out to him, but then she captures a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror – meticulously groomed, because it’s the only way she can feel in any kind of control over her life anymore – and remembers the girl she is on the inside isn’t the same one that he sees her as, not now.

(She doesn’t know if she’s lying to everyone else about who she is now, or if she’s spent her entire life previously lying to herself.)

*

With Finn comes the feeling of familiarity, and something that she can _control_. She pushes back her anger and hurt because she so desperately wants the security of having her boyfriend with her to share her new life with.

She _loves_ showing him off round NYADA. She feels a sense of beautiful triumph when he spends her entire dance class watching her in awe, and she doesn’t miss the vaguely nauseous look on Cassie’s face.

It almost works; until he runs away all over again, leaving her even more of a humiliated, scared little girl than before.

Except she’s _not_ , not entirely, not anymore. She’s still bottom of her class and she’s still terrified of Cassie; she’s still unhappy when she looks in the mirror most days and she’s still paranoid about her bitchy fellow students.

But she’s survived. Two months in and she’s still here, and she’s finding her place in this whole new world and he’s just not a part of it. Not anymore.

*

Mike holds a party the first weekend they’re all back, and she discovers she’s not the only one who’s changed almost beyond recognition. Everyone who’s left Lima has come back so much more mature and laid back and far too glamorous for a small mid-Western city; everyone except for Santana, who mostly just looks lost and confused.

“Heya,” Rachel smiles, sidling up to her where she’s pouring a large cup of punch. Santana turns round and her frowning face breaks out into a huge grin.

“Berry!” she cries, throwing her arms around her. Rachel laughs into the hug, nestling into Santana’s shoulder for a moment.

“Drink?” she asks when they pull away.

“God yes,” says Rachel, leaning against the table. Santana eyes her suspiciously.

“That level of enthusiasm definitely sounds like drama,” she tells her, with a curious smirk. “ _Do_ tell, Berry.”

“Ok I definitely need a couple more drinks before I start sharing, Santana,” Rachel laughs. Santana promptly hands her a shot and a slice of lemon, which Rachel rolls her eyes at, but gamely toasts her and downs it anyway, before grabbing her drink.

“So how’s Kentucky?” Rachel asks. Santana kind of freezes, and Rachel wonders if there’s something she’s horrifically out of the loop about.

“It’s great!” Santana says eventually, with about as much enthusiasm as people tend to express about Rachel’s cooking. She kind of wants to pry, because she’s barely spoken to any of her Lima friends this term and now she’s back she somehow misses them _terribly_ ; but then Puck comes over to grab their hands and pull them off for a game of I have never, and Santana doesn’t even hesitate.

(When Blaine shouts, “I have never found a woman attractive!” several shots later, the rush of alcohol is a nice balm to the clenching in her heart.)

*

She’s so focussed on her work for the second half of the semester she barely has time to _sleep_ , let alone seriously consider dating anyone else. Cassie’s pushing them harder than ever, but it works, because she lands her first audition.

Cassie overhears her talking about it, and appears almost out of nowhere in a way that sets Rachel’s heartbeat on edge. The determination to impress her is still as strong as ever, though, and she’s starting to feel confident enough in herself that maybe she has a _chance_.

So she fights back, and insists, “I can take it!”

(She blushes for a moment when she realises exactly what those words sound like, and even Cassie seems to pause.)

When she suggests Cassie auditions too, however, that confidence evaporates in a split second, and she’s left wondering why she even tried to begin with.

(She tries not to notice the way Cassie simpers at Brody moments later, because he’s _hers_ , but she knows Cassie could snatch him away in a moment if she wished.)

There’s something about Cassie which magnifies every single one of her insecurities, and she’s torn between fighting determinedly against her and wanting to run to the hills (read: Finn, or lately, Brody.) Cassie offers her the perfect opportunity to do the latter a few days later, even if a considerable part of her wants Cassie to make her stay and fight.

She realises it’s a mistake as soon as she sits down on her old bed, and the feeling only grows throughout the evening. She looks up onto the stage and all she can see is her and Finn and it’s just _too much_ , and she needs another escape to run to.

When Cassie answers the phone and gleefully realises her worst fears, the wave of jealously and hurt overwhelms her more than anything has in _years_. Hearing Cassie there, in her new, special safe place, so effortlessly taking what she wants when Rachel’s still stumbling through her own insecurities makes her physically nauseous.

She knew, she _knew_ Cassie would seek revenge after the cold, furious way she’d looked at her that lesson, but she can’t understand why it’s like this – why Cassie would stoop so low, take something she doesn’t even want and make Rachel feel so _worthless_ when all she was doing was trying to help.

But something about the realisation of how petty and skewed Cassie’s actions are gives Rachel an ounce of integrity, and the strength to hang up and silence Cassie’s vicious summation of her, if only for a moment.

When she turns and looks at herself in the mirror the sobs come bursting out of her throat full force again, and it’s such a painfully ironic reminder of all the times she was in here for the same reason because of Finn and Quinn. But now the make up running down her cheeks is so much heavier, the dress stained by tears so much more mature, and she doubles over against the sink because this just isn’t supposed to _happen_ anymore, not in the new life and to the new person she’s become.

(And that’s just another reminder of Cassie all over again, laughing as she effortlessly sweeps away Rachel’s attempts to keep up with her.)

*

The rest of the party are getting steadily more drunk, but Rachel’s just starting to feel kind of claustrophobic, so she creeps out when no one’s watching and goes to sit on the back porch, sipping slowly at her drink.

(Rum and some kind of fruit juice, because the smell takes her back to one late evening practice in Cassie’s dance hall, and she’s always been a sucker for twisted sentimentality.)

She’s been outside for almost twenty minutes when she hears the door open and looks round to see Santana coming out of it.

“Oh, hey,” she says when she notices Rachel. “Hey – are you, Rachel are you ok?” she asks, as Rachel tries to furtively wipe her eyes.

“Yeah I’m fine,” Rachel replies, looking away, but her voice cracks on the last word and she can’t quite stop her bottom lip from quivering.

“Ok, well you look like someone just told you Idina Menzel had her Tony redacted,” Santana says slowly, coming to sit down next to her.

Rachel manages a tremulous smile before a sob forces its her throat, and she brings her hand up to her mouth to try and stop it.

“Hey!” says Santana instantly, wrapping her arms around her, and they’re so warm and comforting and _safe_ in a way Rachel hasn’t felt in such a long time that Rachel just gives in and weeps.

“It’s ok, it’s gonna be ok,” Santana soothes, stroking her hair. Rachel briefly wonders when Santana got this good at comforting, and if it’s anything to do with all her personal experience of sobbing her heart out.

She realises then that Santana of _course_ is the one person who could come close to understanding what’s going through her head right now.

“I think, I think I like… my dance teacher and I… we…” she sobs out. “I thought she hated me, but then…. we _slept_ together and now I don’t think she hates me at all. And it was just… it was just a _game_ that kept me distracted from Finn… except I’ve come home and seen Finn and it’s just, it’s just not what it was before….” Rachel cries, her voice hitching. Santana, to her credit, says nothing, but just keeps on soothing Rachel, her hand stretching down towards her shoulder as she strokes her.

“And then, this whole term…. I’ve started to think that maybe what I _thought_ I wanted wasn’t entirely… she’s just turned everything that I thought about myself on it’s head,” Rachel sniffs. “And all this time part of me was waiting for Finn…. But now I’m here I can’t stop thinking about her.” Rachel stares round bleakly at the night sky, specked with familiar stars that are one of the only things right now that seem to be constant between her old life and her new one.

“Ok, well, first of all,” Santana begins cautiously, when Rachel seems to have calmed down a little. “Who you like, who you sleep with, it doesn’t define who you are. You can sleep with your entire _school_ , men and women, and that wouldn’t make you any less of the overachieving, mouthy Broadway wannabe we have all come to know and love.” Rachel snorts, wiping at her eyes.

“I just don’t know what I want anymore,” she says quietly, playing with her fingers.

“That’s kind of… not surprising,” Santana tells her, and Rachel turns to give her a quizzical frown. “Look, you’ve wanted to be in New York since you were winning your first toddler singing competitions, surrounded by Broadway divas and queens and people with personalities even bigger and more obnoxious than yours. It’s where you belong,” she says with a smile, and even in her emotional state Rachel can detect the wistful longing in Santana’s tone. “And suddenly you’re there, able to be yourself for the first time; except without all the limits of a high school in Lima. You’re like a kid in a candy store with all these crazy sweets to choose from, and you don’t know where to start.”

Rachel laughs. “That sounds about right,” she admits. “So which one do I pick?”

“Just try whatever looks good,” Santana shrugs. “But like, _don’t_ get chucked out of school,” she adds.

“Well from what I’ve heard Cassie’s slept with half the student body and none of _them_ have been expelled,” Rachel says darkly, drawing her knees up to her shivering body to try and fight the familiar pang of jealousy; and that’s just _another_ reason she knows sleeping with Cassie is such a bad idea, when she’s merely another notch on her bed post.

(But then… oh god she doesn’t even know anymore.)

“Wait,” says Santana slowly. “Is this the same Cassie who Kurt told me slept with your latest man candy just to _spite_ you?”

“What – Kurt told you?!” Rachel asks indignantly.

“You were slightly less loud after _Grease_ than usual, I was worried,” Santana says quickly, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Rach, obviously I trust your judgement, and I’m all for super hot anger sex, but please don’t get involved with someone who doesn’t respect you, ok? That’s all I’m asking. Cassie, or… anyone.”

“I won’t,” Rachel promises her, and heaves a huge sigh. “Thank you,” she says, with a smile. “And… what you said about New York, that’s true for a lot of people, you know. And you’re totally welcome to visit anytime, for as long as you want.”

The shy, grateful smile Santana gives Rachel in return makes her think that maybe, everyone’s just as lost as she is.

*

She forgives Brody, partly because she doesn’t want Cassie to win (and she knows that she doesn’t have her kind of power, that pushing Brody away will just push him towards her); and partly because he talks to her in such a firm, authoritative manner about _adult relationships_ that she kind of accepts that this insecurity and jealously is just something she’s going to have to deal with if she wants to be with someone like Brody.

And she does, she really does, because he’s the perfect Broadway leading man for her new life and she knows how jealous he makes Finn and the flirty will-they-won’t-they dynamic is so safe and familiar in a life that is a little bit more overwhelming every day.

It’s nothing like her relationship with Cassie, which has ripped to shreds and reconstructed everything she thought about herself and her future and what she was and was not capable of in the space of three months.

(When Brody jokes about Cassie’s ass she tries valiantly to hide how turned on she is at the memory, and pushes down any jealousy at Cassie choosing Brody over her because she’s not so deluded into thinking she could ever possibly…)

*

Something kind of settles in Rachel after her talk with Santana, like she’s reached some kind of small understanding with herself. It’s enough for her to relax and enjoy the rest of Hanukah with her dads, and the days leading up to Christmas with whichever of her Glee friends happen to be around.

(More often than not, it’s her, Santana and Quinn, and Rachel kind of wishes all of high school had been like this.)

Cassie doesn’t disappear from her thoughts, though. If anything, she returns with a kind of new vigour and hope, and Rachel catches herself smiling dumbly in department stores when she smells Cassie’s perfume and tracing over the fading bruises on her body in the shower.

She kind of starts daydreaming about the idea of sleeping with Cassie again. And then she starts _fantasising_ about it. And then it’s all she can think about; and suddenly she just _needs_ to see her again. She needs to explain and maybe apologise and she doesn’t even know what else, let alone if Cassie will even _give_ it to her.

(She forces herself not to think about how much that would kill her, and just follows her dramatic instincts.)

*

After Cassie blows off their first altercation after that heart breaking weekend, the idea of a full Cassie-free week becomes too appealing to miss, so Rachel misses her last dance class before Thanksgiving, and instead spends the day shopping for groceries with Kurt. He does most of the cooking on the actual day, thank goodness, which leaves her free to enjoy Brody’s attention.

(She completely ignores the twinges she feels whenever she looks at Brody’s hands and wonders what they did to Cassie.

She doesn’t even know who she’s more jealous of, any more, and that in and out of itself makes her so _angry_ , because Cassie is hateful and spiteful, and she can’t understand for the life of her why she finds her so goddamn attractive.)

When Carmen marches through her class, though, and hands her a ticket to her dreams, all thoughts of Cassie are swept from her mind with the feeling of _triumph_. She feels like she’s walking on air the entire day, and Kurt and Brody take her out to Callbacks to celebrate. It all feels so perfect, and she can’t quite believe this is her life now.

She thinks of Cassie’s bitter, petty attempts at getting the better of her and a wave of triumph washes over her because this means _so_ much more. It lasts exactly three minutes into Cassie’s next class, when she sets them the hardest sequence of exercises Rachel’s faced all term, and she can barely stumble and gasp her way through them.

Cassie makes it even worse, watching not-so-surreptitiously from across the room, like she’s waiting for the best moment to strike. When she does, it’s so ridiculous that Rachel can barely believe it, but she sees pretty quickly through Cassie’s façade to the jealously burning in her eyes. She’s _tired_ of bearing the brunt of all Cassie’s manipulative scheming, though; tired of facing her relentless assault on her dance ability, her emotions, her sanity…

 

“I’ve kept up with you!” Rachel insists shrilly. The look on Cassie’s face is full of such furious indignation she backtracks, _fast_ , “I just mean with everything you’ve _thrown_ at me.”

But that just seems to make it worse, and Cassie looks at her like she’s revealed some terrible secret.

“I don’t throw things. I teach,” she hisses. “Nothing I do here is random or unintentional.” And Rachel feels like she’s been stabbed in the heart, like Cassie’s dismantled in one fell swoop any notion that some deeper meaning lay behind her actions.

It doesn’t kill the fight in her, though. And even though she’s _terrified_ , she rises to meet Cassie’s challenge. It takes all of her rigorous professionalism and training not to balk in the face of Cassie’s unabashed sexuality _once again_ , although she slips slightly when Cassie stretches her leg right back so she gets an unprecedented view of her crotch. The grin on Cassie’s face tells Rachel she thinks she’s won this already, but it gets wiped off pretty quickly when Rachel plays her at her own game.

The look of pure desire in Cassie’s eyes when Rachel grabs the hips of the girl in front of her to thrust against sends a rush of heat straight between her legs, and as adrenaline rushes through her body she remembers _why_ she loves performing so much. She powers through the dance with confidence, withstanding Cassie’s display of sheer talent, and maybe taking a jibe at her drinking is a low, low blow; but it works, momentarily, and she thinks she actually has a chance at winning.

But then Cassie’s arm is around her waist, and she’s singing _come on babe, we’re gonna brush the sky_ , and it’s basically an open proposition and the pure desire and fear that shoots through her at that shatters her ability to perform completely. She’s left to the mercy of Cassie and her seduction, and she can’t even fight how much it turns her on anymore when Cassie kicks her leg high into the air in front of her face, and throws herself into Rachel’s arms. Her hand brushes the underside of Cassie’s breast as she catches her and she _likes_ it.

They’ve torn down almost every single boundary, and when Cassie falls down into the arms of her dancers with her crotch suddenly right in Rachel’s face, it’s such a blatant proposal of what she _could_ have that she looks away in embarrassment.

And honestly when they finish, panting, metres away from her, the look on Cassie’s face makes Rachel think she’s going to jump on her then and there. But she doesn’t; because apparently this is all just an educational experience to her. And frankly, it’s one Rachel’s had enough off, because she knows she’s _never_ going to win.

(She knows _exactly_ what song to sing at the Showcase; and when her heart drops when she can’t see Cassie’s face in the audience, she doesn’t show it.)

But then she sees the swish of her hips disappearing out of the door, and something inside her just explodes with joy - which is _ridiculous_ , and she knows it, but it doesn’t stop her from running after Cassie. She’s open and raw after her performance, and she’s got nothing left to lose, so she takes a risk and tells Cassie what’s been on her mind ever since she went to apologise to Cassie that afternoon.

“You know I just thought that we were… but it’s just me being ridiculous, as if I could ever be good enough for  _Cassandra July_.”

She’s dangling on the precipice, and she can’t _breathe_ for a moment, but then Cassie grabs her and kisses her like it’s all she’s really wanted to do all along, and so Rachel lets go and falls.

*

The door of Cassie’s loft swings open to reveal Cassie in the middle of putting a long, elegant string of diamonds in her ear. Her whole face is flooded with surprise; confusion and suspicion flashing through her eyes.

“Schwimmer, what the hell are you doing here?!” she demands, although not angrily.

“Please don’t be mad at me, I know it’s New Years’ Eve, but I just needed to explain,” gabbles Rachel, and Cassie looks amused, folding her arms across her chest.

“Schwimmer, if you’re under the mistaken impression that I’m-“

“I’m here because… I wanted to let you know I won’t be taking your class next semester,” Rachel interrupts quickly.

“And you had to come all the way back from Iowa on New Year’s Eve to tell me that?” asks Cassie dryly, smirking. Rachel pauses, biting her lip.

“Yes?” she says shyly.

Cassie raises an eyebrow, but backs away from the door. “I have a party to go to in half an hour, but you can stay for a cocktail,” she tells her as she sashays across the apartment, turning round to give Rachel a cheeky grin.

Rachel steps cautiously through the doorway (and really, was she so silly to expect Cassie to have boobie traps just _waiting_ for her?) and into the loft, and gasps. She hadn’t had much time to look at it before, obviously, but now through the dim light she can make out wide, glimmering arches stretching across the towering ceiling, red brick walls lined with a myriad of photos and long, dark couches with what looked like velvet throws draped over them.

“My loft in _Soho_ ,” Cassie drawls, still smirking, and Rachel doesn’t miss the reference back to her first lesson. She lights a couple of candles on her kitchen counter top, and pours out two generous cocktails from a pitcher (Rachel wonders if she was previously planning on drinking the whole thing to herself…). She’s being so calm and polite as if nothing ever happened; it’s disconcerting, and Rachel feels the need to set the record straight.

“Cassie I really am sorry,” she begins, but then Cassie looks up at her and for a moment she sees vulnerability across her features, before they form a calm mask.

“For what?” she asks in a terrifying icy sweetness, handing Rachel her drink. Rachel bites her lip, and looks down at it.

“Nothing, I just…” It feels eerily like their confrontation after the Winter Showcase, except Rachel’s already given up all her cards. Cassie saunters away across the loft to put on some soft jazz, and Rachel timidly follows her over to the sofas.

“So… how was your Christmas?” she asks, and Cassie smiles at her in an amused way that makes her feel like this whole evening is a test.

“Wonderful,” she says dryly. “How was Hanukah?”

(Her heart swells a little when Cassie remembers she’s Jewish.)

“It was lovely,” Rachel tells her with a broad grin. “My dads went on a round the world cruise this semester whilst I was away, and they got me a little present from each country for every night.”

“So, what do you have English teabags sitting next to Persian carpets in your house back home or something?” Cassie asks as she comes to sit down next to her, and Rachel can tell she doesn’t really care, which is why it strikes her as so _nice_ , and so she launches into a hilarious tale of _how_ exactly her dads ended up with a box of $500 Russian cigars, and even Cassie laughs.

*

Rachel has definitely been here for more than half an hour, but Cassie makes no attempts to leave. She merely refills Rachel’s glass, then leans back in her sofa and asks her opinion on the new _Sound of Music_ revival just opening.

They’re halfway through their third pitcher when Cassie’s phone rings. Rachel’s head is spinning and she happily leans back against the sofa as Cassie excuses herself and goes to answer the call. She stares up at the shadows dancing across the ceiling and in the distance she can hear Cassie’s voice, seemingly apologetic. It sounds strange. Rachel vaguely remembers that Cassie was supposed to be going out tonight – shouldn’t she have left by now? Tonight was something important. New Year’s? New Year’s!  She turns her head towards the mantelpiece and squints at the marble clock on top of it; 11.50. Shit.

“Somewhere you’re supposed to be?”

Rachel whips her head round ( _ow_ ) to see Cassie draped against the doorframe, smirking at her as usual.

“I was going to say the same for you,” Rachel replies, her words somehow coming out slurred. Is she _drunk_? Cassie looks amused, and saunters over to slide down on the sofa next to her. Their knees brush ever-so-slightly, sending goose bumps down Rachel’s legs.

“Tell me Schwimmer,” Cassie drawls, leaning her elbow on the back of the sofa as she plays with her hair. Rachel watches her fingers weave in and out of blonde curls and a memory of those fingers curled deep inside _her_ flashes across her mind. “Why _exactly_ are you here?”

Rachel drags her eyes away from Cassie’s fingers to look up at her, and the danger dancing beneath her curious expression ignites something inside of Rachel. And really, fuck this. Fuck Finn and Brody and playing it safe, fuck everyone who said she wasn’t sexy or that she wouldn’t succeed or that she’d never be loved… fuck everything.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Rachel says quietly, and something flashes through Cassie’s eyes; excitement, affection? “I just wanted…”

“What?” asks Cassie huskily, as she moves her fingers to run along Rachel’s thigh. Rachel can feel her heart hammering in her chest as she struggles to keep her gaze level with Cassie’s. “Tell me Schwimmer. What. Do. You. Want?”

“You,” sighs Rachel, and she barely has time to register a low growl in Cassie’s chest as a warm mouth descends on hers and strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling their bodies flush together. Rachel tastes the dark, sweet alcohol that’s buzzing round her head as she runs a tongue along Cassie’s lips, teasing. But Cassie slides a long hand up Rachel’s side to brush over the underside of her breast and she moans, her mouth opening as Cassie darts her tongue inside, ravishing her. Cassie leans further forward and Rachel feels herself beginning to lose control of the kiss, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care at all.

Rachel’s hands slide down Cassie to wrap around her bum, squeezing gently. Cassie moans against her lips, and something flitters in Rachel’s ribcage. What was it about this woman that did this to her? No one, _no one_ could emit feelings in her like this. An image of Quinn’s long, tan legs flashes across her mind, but then Cassie moves her knee in between Rachel’s, pressing up against her damp crotch and Rachel groans, sinking down further as pleasure soaks through her body. She squeezes Cassie’s bum harder and arches up as Cassie’s knee rubs up against her again and she rolls Rachel’s breast in her hand.

“God Cassie,” she gasps, as Cassie kisses away from her mouth and down her neck, sucking, licking, nipping. She sucks hard at her pulse point and Rachel hisses in pleasure, feeling herself being marked. Her heart swells.

It’s like Cassie’s launching an attack on every single one of her senses at once; and if this was her reward for submission, she’d take that any day. The heady mixture of Cassie’s perfume, sweat and _sex_ washes over her; she can taste the salt expiring from her body on Cassie’s tongue; she can hear her warm breath panting in her ear; feel Cassie’s dampness soaking into her as she rocks against her thigh; and when she opens her eyes she can watch herself being eaten _alive_.

“Oh God Schwimmer,” Cassie groans as she sinks particularly hard against Rachel’s leg. She presses her body up against Rachel’s and Rachel feels Cassie’s breasts slide over her chest, leaving a tingly trail in their wake.

Cassie’s hand presses up her thigh, dragging her skirt up to her waist, then slides two fingers firmly inside of her. Rachel groans, gasping as her head falls back against the sofa. Cassie curls her fingers up then drags them _torturously_ out and Rachel sobs as her body writhes desperately. Cassie laughs breathlessly, before thrusting her hand back in and leaning forward to capture Rachel’s mouth with her own.

Rachel slams her hips down, urging Cassie on as she moans and whimpers against her lips. But Cassie barely needs it; she fucks her relentlessly, dominating Rachel as her hand slams into her again and again, wet noises echoing around the loft in between their pants. Rachel should hate it, she should, being so completely under the control of someone else; but she finds that it turns her on more than anything, Cassie’s desperate desire to have Rachel trembling at her fingers.

Her head falls back as Cassie drives her higher and higher, and she glances up to see Cassie’s eyes are wild; they’re dark and shining, hair slick with sweat falling in them and she’s honestly never seen someone so turned on in her life.

“Come on, Schwimmer,” she murmurs, with a determined expression as she curls her fingers one last time, pressing her thumb against Rachel’s clit and stars appear in her eyes as she screams, arching into Cassie. Her orgasm washes over as she clamps down on Cassie’s fingers, riding it out as her body’s rocked with pleasure, until her cries turn to whimpers and she slumps down, Cassie falling against her.

They lay there, panting, and as strength slowly returns to Rachel’s arms she absent-mindedly moves a hand up to play with Cassie’s hair. Is she imagining it or does Cassie lean ever so slightly into her?

Cassie’s clock suddenly chimes; New Year. Rachel laughs. Cassie pulls back to look at her, grinning.

“Happy New Year, Schwim,” she says softly. She pauses, and Rachel looks at her hesitantly for a moment which – how is a silly tradition a big deal after she’s just been fucked out of her mind? Then Cassie lets out a slow chuckle, and leans forward to kiss her wetly. Rachel smiles against her lips and the knot inside of her, that she _knows_ appeared the first day of classes with Cassie, loosens slightly.

Cassie pulls back with a smirk.

“So. Do you think you can walk to my bed?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She definitely did not expect to begin 2013 with Rachel draped across her body, a satisfied smile playing across her lips as she snores ever so slightly. Cassie runs her hands through her hair lightly, chuckling to herself, because it is kind of funny. She looks sort of cute when she sleeps; probably because she’s stopped talking for more than thirty seconds._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's kept supporting me with this story, it honestly means so much, so keep the comments coming :)

So.

If she’s completely honest with herself, of all the scenarios she’d imagined she’d never once pictured Rachel leaving. If anything it was _her_ she’d thought would do the walking… but then nothing about last night was what Cassie expected it to be.

She gave up over-analysing ten years ago, though; and besides, she’s got what she wanted. She’s won Schwimmer over and had some _mind blowing_ sex in the process (another thing she didn’t anticipate; Schwimmer actually knowing how to get her off), and with absolutely _no_ consequences to it. So she makes herself a strong coffee and goes for a run with absolutely nothing she wants to think about.

*

Lucian comes over two days later bearing Christmas gifts.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Cassie laughs, as she pulls out a volume of old off-cuts from stage photos, all with the performers caught in awkward and often compromising poses that evidently didn’t make the final cut. “Lucian this is amazing,” she tells him, thumbing through the photos. And somehow, seeing so many Broadway fuck-ups in one place, something untwists a little bit inside of her, just for a moment.

“Ok,” she says excitedly, turning to him with a mischievous grin on her face. “Close your eyes.” Lucian eyes her warily, but does so anyway. Cassie reaches for something under the coffee table, and hands it to him.

“Ahh!” Lucian screams when he opens his eyes, laughing hysterically. Cassie bursts into giggles, clasping her hands at her mouth as Lucian pulls on a knitted sweater with _I <3 Lapdances_ woven in.

“Please, please wear that on the Subway home,” she asks him earnestly.

Lucian snorts. “Uh ,no, I don’t think so. But I _will_ wear it to The Alley on Christmas Eve…” he says temptingly.

“I said _maybe_ ,” Cassie reminds him, pouring them both some more egg nog. “All those Broadway queens, though, especially _yours_.”

“Cassie, our entire circle of friends is Broadway queens,” Lucian says deadpan.

“ _Ex­_ -Broadway,” Cassie reminds him, sipping her eggnog, and he rolls his eyes. “What about New Years’?” she asks him.

“Party. My loft. Bring a date,” he teases, nudging her.

“Lucian I may not bring one, but I assure you I will _leave_ with one.”

“Yeah, leave, as in, not to my bathroom.”

“OK, onetime that happened…”

*

She goes to the party, because Rachel keeps threatening to inch into her thoughts and she badly needs some alcohol to take the edge off, but drinking alone at Christmas is just _sad_.

When she walks in with Lucian and his boyfriend the whole room stops talking and it’s basically just as horrific as she’d imagined. But then the boyfriend steps forward and in that effortless theatre way greets the entire room in one swoop whilst making it seem like he’s talking to everyone individually. They’re instantly welcomed in and, yeah, sometimes he’s kind of ok, Cassie guesses.

Lucian introduces her to some people who don’t actually make her want to claw her own eyes out, and they turn out to be a _big_ fan of drinking games, so the night goes pretty well after that. Seven tequila shots later and she stumbles outside for a moment to smoke, and briefly wonders what Rachel’s doing right now.

She’s really, really glad she doesn’t have her number, because she’d probably do something pathetic like _call_ if she did.

*

She _does_ start to wonder if maybe Rachel didn’t want it as much as she thought she did. She has a brief panic attack a few nights after Christmas Day when she wonders if Rachel’s actually going to report her, but then she remembers her pretty much begging her outside NYADA, and figures she’ll be ok.

It’s not like she hasn’t fucked her students before, and this is no different. It’s just _sex_ , and Rachel’s clearly too much of a drama queen to deal with it. It doesn’t mean _anything_.

She’s doing pretty well at ignoring the pesky emotions bothering her every time she goes to sleep, until Rachel turns up at her loft on New Years’ Eve.

*

So Rachel’s drunk. Not so much that she’s actually incapable of standing or making decisions, but she’s still underage and she’s currently running her fingers through her hair and licking her lips and flirting _shamelessly_ , and Cassie wonders how she’s reached a level where she’s plying her students with alcohol to get them to sleep with her.

(Except that’s clearly what Rachel turned up here for, and so really Cassie’s just plying herself…)

They’re kind of dancing on the precipice, and Cassie briefly considers taking Rachel to the party with her. But then Lucian calls and he’s off his ass drunk, enough so that he won’t be mad at Cassie for blowing their plans off at the last minute.

On New Years’ Eve.

To stay home with Schwimmer.

Cassie glances at her bed, and memories of Rachel writhing around on it underneath her come flooding back, and she’s basically sold after that.

*

She definitely did not expect to begin 2013 with Rachel draped across her body, a satisfied smile playing across her lips as she snores ever so slightly. Cassie runs her hands through her hair lightly, chuckling to herself, because it _is_ kind of funny. She looks sort of cute when she sleeps; probably because she’s stopped talking for more than thirty seconds.

(She can’t help the slight bittersweet pang that she hasn’t woken up alone again.)

“Schwim,” she says softly, running a hand along her shoulder, because Rachel’s skin is kind of glowing in the morning light. Rachel stays fast asleep. “Schwi-im,” she sing-songs, and Rachel murmurs, eventually peeling an eye open. For a split-second Cassie’s heart freezes in panic at how fucking awkward this might be.

“Oh god,” Rachel groans, bringing a hand up to her temples. “I feel horrific.”

“You are such a lightweight,” Cassie tells her, rolling her eyes, but she’s smiling. It’s pretty funny seeing someone else wake up like a bear with a sore head when it’s usually _her_ heaving over the toilet seat in the morning. “Are you gonna hurl?” Cassie asks, and Rachel shakes her head, and then winces.

“Good,” Cassie says, and watches happily as the fingers she trails up Rachel’s spine draw out goosebumps. “Because I think I know how to make you feel better…”

Rachel perks up at that, and slides seductively up Cassie’s body with a mischievous look in her eye. Schwimmer’s over-enthusiasm is as grating as nails on a fucking chalkboard in every other aspect of life, but it never fails to render Cassie momentarily speechless at how goddamn _sexy_ it is in her bed.

“Hmm, that would be a first,” Rachel tells her, and slips her tongue into Cassie’s mouth before she can verbalise her outrage. It really shouldn’t be so good, both of them sweaty and sticky and _stinking_ of alcohol and also completely sober; but Cassie feels that familiar warmth kindle in the pit of her stomach as Rachel’s skin slides against hers and she starts to lose it all over again.

She’s so glad she’s still here. When she rolls Rachel over and looks down to see her smiling up at her, she’s so happy she just stops, just for a moment, to grin right back.

Cassie takes her time this time round, and _god_ it’s so worth it, watching Rachel writhe and scream in frustration as she pushes her to the brink and then pulls her back again.

Really, it’s a great fucking start to 2013.

*

She’s basically OK as long as she doesn’t think about the reasoning behind Rachel turning up at her loft _on New Year’s Eve_ , just to see her.

They spend the morning in bed, intermittently dosing off, until Cassie suddenly realises she’s absolutely _famished_ and gets up to go in search of some food.

(She doesn’t usually eat anything more than fruit, especially at this time of day, but maybe she’s just worked up an appetite over the last twelve hours, or maybe she’s feeling content enough to eat a proper breakfast. Who knows.)

“So, I guess I’ll just…” Rachel says awkwardly as Cassie pulls on her robe, and she looks round to see Rachel wrapping a sheet round her and rolling out of bed. Cassie freezes, because this is _exactly_ why she never has people stay over.

Then she kind of shrugs, and says, “Well I’m gonna make some breakfast,” and hurries out the room before she has to look at Rachel’s face.

She’s not _opposed_ to Rachel staying – a whole day of sex is pretty fucking appealing, frankly – but she doesn’t want to give her the idea this is some kind of thing. Because it’s not; it’s just an extension of the power struggle they’ve been dancing together all semester.

She butters some toast kind of agitatedly, biting her lip, and then heaves an aggravated sigh.

“Schwim?” she calls.

“Yeah?”

She walks back over to her room and pokes her head around the door, where Rachel is still semi-naked, and, yeah, that kind of firms her resolve.

“I don’t even know if there any taxis running today so – do you want to come… join me in the shower?”

Rachel blushes and smiles at the same time, and it’s both incredibly cute and incredibly sexy, so Cassie crooks a finger at her and leads her across the hallway into her bathroom, slipping off her robe as she goes.

*

She lets Rachel stay, after that, because it’s fucking New Years’ Day, and she’s not a bitch _without reason_. Rachel doesn’t have any clothes except the ones she came in, though - which stink of rum and sex – and the look of happiness on her face when Cassie offers her some of her lounge wear makes Cassie’s stomach drop.

“Look, Schwimmer,” she says awkwardly, trying not to stare at Rachel’s appealingly half-naked body as she gets dressed (and _seriously_ , she’s basically spend the past twelve hours learning how to play Rachel’s body like a harp and she should be fucking over it by now, so _how_ is she still getting tingles in the pit of her stomach?).

“This just for the holidays, OK? Then you can go back to running after whatever hunk of meat you’re into right now or whatever,” she says dismissively, shoving her hands in her the pockets of her yoga pants. Rachel stills so suddenly it makes Cassie’s breath catch, and the look of hurt on her face wrenches Cassie’s heart so hard for a moment she wishes she could take the words back. Especially the second part.

(And she knows she’s kidding herself if she thinks Rachel doesn’t see straight through her attempted apathy to the jealousy underneath.)

But then Rachel straightens her spine and says in what is clearly an attempt at light-heartedness, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to steal one of your keys to cut when you’re not looking.”

Cassie’s heart still hurts, but she can’t help but kind of smile at that.

“I’m gonna make some lunch,” she tells her, a lot more softly now, and then leaves Rachel to finish getting dressed.

They eat lunch on opposite ends of the couch, watching a movie far too optimistic for Cassie’s liking, and end up sort of nestling up there for the rest of the afternoon. Rachel gives a running commentary for most of what they watch – because this feel good shit is obviously right up her street – and it’s slightly more endearing than it is annoying. And Rachel has a way of almost instantly evaporating any awkwardness in the air that Cassie kind of admires.

(She wonders when she actually started considering Rachel as _less_ uptight than her, and sort of chuckles to herself.)

By late afternoon she’s starting to feel a little stiff, and so quietly slides off the couch and pulls out her yoga mat from underneath, then begins to stretch. She’s mostly just stretching flatly across and between her legs at the start, but then she flips onto her back and pulls her leg up to near her head and Rachel glances over. She catches Cassie’s eye and looks away again quickly, licking her lips as she focuses resolutely on the television.

Cassie smirks.

She sighs loudly as she slides onto her side and pulls her leg back up towards her, and when Rachel glances over a second later her gaze lingers on Cassie’s crotch.

“Schwim?” Cassie says slowly.

“Mm?” squeaks Rachel, and a slight blush spreads across her cheeks.

Cassie beckons her lightly over with her head, and Rachel slips off the couch and over to her in about two seconds flat. She slides her hand up to press on Cassie’s leg, and it’s basically a mirror situation of Rachel’s apology to her all those weeks ago. Except now Rachel’s touch is firm and confident in a way that suggests she knows what she wants, and the darkness in her eyes as she holds Cassie’s gaze confirms that.

Rachel’s the one pushing, now, figuring out what makes Cassie tick. She’s still hesitant, even as she slides her other hand up Cassie’s inner thigh, watching with a heaving chest and wide eyes to see how Cassie reacts. She gives the impression of a girl who’s finally being allowed to touch when she could previously only look, and who’s watching and waiting just as much as Cassie to see where this new twist is going to take them.

“Schwimmer,” she sighs, as Rachel finally moves her hand to cup Cassie’s crotch. She rubs slowly across the material, and Cassie’s eyes flutter closed as she purrs contentedly.

Rachel pulls back her extended leg and nudges her gently to the floor, and Cassie smiles.

“I’m _so_ glad you’ve finally learnt to take what you want, Schwimmer,” Cassie says in a throaty voice, her head tipping back as Rachel continues to rub at her dampening crotch.

“What makes you think I’ve wanted this all along?” Rachel asks innocently. Cassie tips her head up briefly to raise an incredulous eyebrow, but then Rachel presses particularly hard with her fingers and her head tips back to the floor with a loud groan.

“You think I didn’t notice how flushed you got every time I touched you?” Cassie gasps, as Rachel’s fingers speed up, and her other hand moves to slide Cassie’s top up over her stomach. “Or you licking your lips at me in the mirror whilst you checked out my ass?”

“You were just as bad,” mumbles Rachel, as she dips her head down to lick Cassie’s belly button. Cassie hisses and arches into her, wrapping a leg around Rachel’s body.

“I was- oh _god_ ,” Cassie cries, as Rachel slips a hand underneath her yoga pants and pushes two fingers inside her without any preamble.

“You were what, Cassandra?” as she mimics Cassie’s favourite kind of torture by dragging her curled fingers out _achingly_ slowly.

“I was _not_ as bad as you,” is the only response Cassie can come up with, as Rachel begins to fuck her with a smug smile on her face.

“You were thoroughly inappropriate,” she says in an incredibly prim voice, just as she rams her fingers back into her and it’s so hot Cassie _screams_.

“Oh my god, Rachel, _more_!”

But Rachel doesn’t oblige; instead she tugs Cassie’s pants and underwear roughly down her legs and Cassie’s just about to protest when Rachel dips her head down and licks long and deep. A cry rips from Cassie’s throat as she opens her legs wider and simultaneously wraps them tighter around Rachel.

She’s such a fucking tease, licking slowly and hungrily over Cassie’s labia but never quite where wants. Cassie’s legs are trembling and the ache between her thighs is building so much she wants to scream.

“Schwimmer for christ’s sake it’s called a clit and it’s right there!”

Rachel stops completely to look up and glare at her, and she growls.

“Schwimmer!”

Then Rachel moves her head back down and runs her tongue over Cassie’s clit before sucking _hard_ , and Cassie nearly loses it, shaking and writhing shamelessly against Rachel’s face. Rachel keeps licking and sucking, hands firmly on her hips to hold her down as she drives Cassie to the brink with more hungry determination than Cassie’s ever experienced in her life.

“Rachel,” she gasps, crying, and then loses it completely, her hips bucking against Rachel’s face as her body spasms in pleasure.

When she comes down, Rachel is sitting watching her, a smug smile settling over her glistening mouth.

*

Rachel stays the night again, and Cassie allows herself one last weakness and lets Rachel nestle into her side, wrapping her arms tightly around her. She feels her thoughts calm as Rachel snores softly, and having her there is so inexplicably soothing.

When she wakes up, the bed next to her is empty. Her stomach drops, but then she hears the trinkling of the shower next door, and the tell-tale sounds of Rachel’s vocal warm-ups, clearly at a failed attempt at a muted level. Cassie resists the urge to join her, because then they’ll just end up _right_ back at the beginning, and she needs to stop whatever this thing is before it gets out of hand.

Instead, she pulls on some lounge wear and goes to make herself a strong coffee. She doesn’t feel like eating anything at all, so she sits at the kitchen counter and sips at her drink. The boiling liquid burns down her throat, and it’s a nice reminder of reality.

Rachel appears about half an hour later, anxiously running her hands through her hair as she makes her way over to Cassie.

“I’ve left your stuff on your bed. Thanks,” she says, with a small smile.

“No problem, Schwim.”

“Well… have a good holiday,” Rachel tells her. She hesitates, biting her lip, then all of a sudden moves round to the side of the counter and brushes her lips against Cassie’s cheek. Then before Cassie can even turn to look at her she walks away and out of the loft, leaving a faint smell of shampoo in her wake.

Cassie bites her own lip, hard, and doesn’t stop until she realises she’s drawn blood.

*

Rachel doesn’t disappear from her thoughts for the rest of the week. She doesn’t even come close. She pesters her night and day, barging her way into her memories and her dreams, and it really shouldn’t be such a surprise considering what she’s like in real life.

Cassie spends most of her time in her studio trying to keep distracted, and the rest of it trying to ease some of the frustration she feels every time she so much as remembers Rachel’s face.

(Usually, mid-orgasm, which is basically one of the best things she’s ever seen.)

She knows having sex with Rachel _again_ would be a really bad fucking idea, even if she’s not technically her student anymore – and the idea of not seeing Rachel in skimpy dance outfits every other day seems like both heaven and hell at this point – because she’s still a NYADA student, and Cassie’s already ruined one career.

It doesn’t stop her considering it in the brief moments before she can push Rachel out of her mind; fantasising about all things she could do to her in her studio, mentally assessing how much they could feasibly get away with without being caught.

She is, when it comes down to it, both an incredibly private and an incredibly manipulative person, and she knows there’s nothing she can’t hide if she wants to.

(She’s not sure she can say the same for Rachel, though.)

*

She wakes up on the first day of classes with such an eager sense of anticipation she has to actually stop and talk some sense into herself. Rachel’s not even in her class.

And even if she was…

She can barely apply her eyeliner straight her hand’s shaking so much, and it’s fucking ridiculous. She’s 90% sure she’s suffering from some kind of withdrawal symptoms, as she’s drunk basically _nothing_ since New Years’.

(She tells herself it’s to stop herself from doing anything stupid with Rachel, but the reality is she just doesn’t want to forget what happened.)

She doesn’t even bother with breakfast, and arrives at her studio a full half hour early, sipping nervously on a coffee whilst she absent-mindedly runs through some choreography.

Her class start to arrive, and they’re pretty much the same few who managed to survive Dance 101 to the end of the semester, plus a couple of new students who clearly have no idea what they’ve let themselves in for. Rachel’s room mate isn’t one of them, she notes happily, because she’d rather not have a big fucking reminder of Schwimmer in her class every day when Schwimmer herself isn’t actually there.

She’s just about to start warm-up when the door opens and suddenly _Rachel_ swans into the studio.

Cassie’s heart legitimately skips a beat and then starts thudding away twice as fast as normal, and she looks away before her face does anything without her permission.

“Sorry I’m late!” says Rachel breathlessly as she hurries across to the window.

 _Is she actually fucking kidding_.

“I didn’t think you’d be gracing us with your presence this semester, Schwimmer,” Cassie says in what she hopes is a casual voice.

“Well, you’ve taught me so much, Miss July,” Rachel tells her as she turns round, and smiles sweetly.

_That little shit._

Cassie’s eyes narrow as she turns away, and she ignores the bolt of lightning straight to her groin at those words.

“Alright, let’s go! Start warming up people. Let’s start with some pliés, as I’m sure you’ve all forgotten everything you learnt last semester over Winter Break. Don’t let me see your turn out slip in fifth!”

She wanders around the class for a few minutes, lazily waving her cane and barking criticisms at her students as she tries to think how to best deal with Rachel. She’s trying to stifle her first reaction, which is basically throw her up against a wall and slide her hands underneath her leotard, but it’s _really_ fucking hard, because Rachel is wearing shorts so tiny she can actually see the bottom of her ass cheeks.

She sidles up behind her silently, and Rachel jumps as she feels Cassie’s chest brush against her hair as she leans in to whisper, “Do you think this is funny, Schwimmer?”

“I simply felt I still had more to learn from this class,” Rachel whispers back primly, and that voice sends her straight back to lying on the floor with Rachel between her legs. She closes her eyes for a moment.

“Don’t think I’m going to go easy on you, Schwimmer,” she growls, and Rachel visibly shivers.

She does exactly that, because no _way_ is she going to stop a couple of (mind blowing) orgasms stop her from doing her job. And yeah, she tones down the insults to an only reasonably brutal level, but it seems only fair after she’s become so well acquainted with how well Rachel can actually move her body, when she tries.

It’s still goddamn torture, though, and she spends most of the lesson coming to the decision that Rachel is just going to have to learn to keep her fucking mouth shut or something, because there is not a chance in hell she can make it through the next semester without ripping those ridiculously revealing leotards off her.

(And it’s better for both of them, frankly, that that happens in private.)

She slams the door shut on the last student and clumsily locks it, before she turns round to where Rachel is lingering by her desk, smiling seductively in a way that frankly should be illegal.

“You are such a pain in my ass,” Cassie growls, marching towards her. Rachel lets out a teasing laugh before Cassie throws her onto the desk, wrapping an arm around her neck to crash their mouths together.

Her hands slide over Rachel’s body, squeezing at her breasts as she slips her knee in between Rachel’s thighs.

“Why did you come back?” she asks through breathless kisses up Rachel’s neck.

“I wasn’t ever planning on going,” Rachel gasps, and Cassie pulls back to look at her in shock for a moment, and sees the mischievous glint in Rachel’s eyes. Her mouth tightens into a thin line, and she pushes Rachel’s shorts aside and slides her fingers inside Rachel.

“ _Oh!_ ” she cries, her head tipping back in pleasure as she thrusts her hips against Cassie’s hand.

Cassie fucks her relentlessly, wrapping one hand through her hair to kiss her roughly as the other works furiously between her legs. Rachel moans and whimpers into her mouth, and she’s so uninhibited with Cassie now that she just gets more and more sexy every time this happens.

Her cries start to echo round the dance studio as she gets closer and closer, and Cassie spares a brain cell to think how obvious this must sound to anyone who happens to be outside. She shoves her spare hand against Rachel’s mouth, and it’s just in time because then Rachel falls apart, her screams muffled by Cassie’s palm as she shakes against her.

Then Cassie hears it; the click of heels and the slow turn of the door handle. She reacts instinctively, pulling Rachel violently off the table and into hold, and whirling her round the floor.

When the door opens and a couple of students walk in, Cassie looks over and stops them. She keeps one arm wrapped tightly around Rachel, who is nearly collapsing breathlessly onto the floor, but to the students standing nervously in the doorway it’s merely because of a particularly energetic dance session.

“I’m sorry, did you want something?” Cassie asks archly. “I’m just showing one of my students the finer points of the tango.”

“No, sorry Miss July, we thought this room was free,” says one of the students quickly, before they turn and hurry away, closing the door behind them.

Rachel sags against Cassie, who lets out a relieved sigh.

“ _Shit_ ,” she says, still gasping for breath. She glances down at Rachel, who looks so thoroughly fucked she wonders whether she’s about to be reported.

“Shit,” she says again.

*

Cassie doesn’t have class with Rachel on Tuesday this semester, so she doesn’t see her for another couple of days. She deliberates for a full two hours on actually ending whatever this is with Rachel, but when she catches a whiff of her perfume on her clothes and her crotch actually _aches_ , she accepts that this is going to happen whether she likes it or not.

Rachel hangs back after class again the next day, looking a little unsure.

“Look, Schwimmer,” Cassie begins awkwardly. “We nearly got caught the other night, so, you know, if we’re gonna do this on the regular I think we should relocate to my loft.”

Rachel’s eyes light up in excitement. “Oh my god, are we having an _illicit_ _affair_?!” she says in an overly-dramatic whisper, and actually fucking claps her hands. Cassie closes her eyes for a moment.

“OK, first of all, do not clap like a seal if you ever want to see me naked again,” Cassie says dryly, and Rachel sobers, nodding.

(It briefly occurs to her that if she now has sex as a weapon, maybe Rachel will be less of a fucking pain in her ass in class.)

“And you should probably give me your number or something,” Cassie continues. “I can’t just have you turning up at my loft whenever.”

“I do actually have a life, you know,” Rachel informs her, but grudgingly accepts Cassie’s phone anyway.

“Trolling Broadway chat rooms for mentions of Barbra’s latest whereabouts is not a life, Schwimmer,” says Cassie dryly as Rachel types in her number. Rachel glares at her, handing back the phone as Cassie smirks.

“I’ll call you,” she says with a wink, before sauntering past Rachel and whacking her on the ass as she leaves.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She waits a solid three days before she calls on Rachel, because she is not desperate, and she would basically rather chew glass than give Rachel any inkling of how much she wants her._
> 
> _Rachel, unfortunately, seems to have some sort of idea, from the way she’s prancing around Cassie’s dance hall in scandalously revealing outfits and shooting suggestive smirks at her every three seconds._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'VE FINISHED MY DEGREE!! So I'm going to be trying to update at least once a week from now on; feel free to come into my tumblr (gohavefunschwim) ask and bug me if I start slipping.
> 
> Thank you to the usual angels - Harriet, Marina, Gem and Amelia - for their never-ending encouragement, as well as everyone who commented on the last chapter. It really means a lot, so please keep it coming :)

So.

She waits a solid three days before she calls on Rachel, because she is _not_ desperate, and she would basically rather chew glass than give Rachel any inkling of how much she wants her.

Rachel, unfortunately, seems to have some sort of idea, from the way she’s prancing around Cassie’s dance hall in scandalously revealing outfits and shooting suggestive smirks at her every three seconds. It’s possibly the least subtle display of seduction Cassie’s ever seen from Rachel – and that includes her Oops performance – and if it wasn’t for the fact that her entire class is more convinced than ever of their sworn enmity after All That Jazz, she’d start to worry.

As it is, she’s just ridiculously frustrated, and so she catches Rachel as she’s leaving their Friday morning class.

“Schwimmer, a word,” she says, without even bothering to look up from her choreography notes by the piano. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the barely concealed smirk on Rachel’s face as she walks over to her.

“Ms July?” Rachel asks with such a feigned innocence that it takes all of Cassie’s self-restraint not to throw her against the piano then and there.

“What are you doing Saturday night?” she asks in a low voice, moving closer towards her.

“Um,” Rachel gulps. “Maybe a party?”

“There’s a wonderful little salsa club just round the corner from my apartment,” Cassie says into Rachel’s ear, “And I seem to remember you’re still having some trouble learning to… loosen up a little.” Cassie’s hands drift across Rachel’s waist, and Rachel instinctively leans into her.

“Are you offering to teach me?” Rachel asks in a voice about an octave deeper than usual.

“Be at mine for around 9,” Cassie tells her, ghosting her lips across Rachel’s ear lobe before she pulls away, leaving Rachel visibly breathless as she saunters out of the classroom.

*

She doesn’t really plan on telling Lucian, but it comes out when she has to give him a reason she can’t go out that Saturday.

(Because obviously a vague _I’ve got other plans_ isn’t going to work for someone who hasn’t had more than one genuine friend in the last eight years.)

“You’re doing _what_?” Lucian asks in disbelief down the phone.

“I’m taking Rachel to Caliente’s on 3rd,” Cassie sighs, pouring herself a large glass of wine, because this is a conversation she really does not want to deal with.

“You’re taking your student dancing,” Lucian says back to her flatly.

“Christ Lucian, a dance teacher dancing with her student, who would ever have thought?” Cassie snaps, and drinks deeply as she rolls her eyes.

“Cassie, there’s a difference between a casual affair with your student, and taking the underage girl you’ve been obsessed with for months out on a date.”

Something inside Cassie flares. And seriously, if she wanted a lecture on her life choices, she’d go visit her grandmother in Kansas.

She can’t think of a time when Broadway teachers _haven’t_ slept with their young ingénues, and it’s really not a fucking big deal. She knows what she’s doing – and who – and she’s completely in control of this situation.

“Yeah, you know what the only thing I’m _obsessed_ with is how good Rachel looks naked in my bed, okay? So fuck you.”

She hangs up, narrowly resisting the urge to throw her phone across the flat. Instead she sighs angrily, biting her lip as the guilt already starts to hit her, and takes another deep gulp of wine to fend it off.

*

Her conversation with Lucian nags away at her all weekend, but then Rachel turns up at her flat – bang on 9pm, of course – in a tiny black dress that swirls as she turns, and Cassie forgets any objections she has to fucking Rachel senseless.

“So is this what you normally do when you’re not teaching?” Rachel asks her, as they wander through Soho.

“Are you surprised I have a life outside of NYADA, Schwimmer?” Cassie says drolly.

“I- well, maybe sometimes you get bored of dancing,” Rachel says hesitantly.

“Oh, I never get bored of dancing,” Cassie tells her, shooting Rachel a smirk. Rachel blushes and looks away, biting her lip as she smiles.

“Did you train as a dancer?” she asks, and for a moment Cassie feels like she’s had the wind knocked out of her. But Rachel says it so casually, as if she’s not referencing to 20 years of blood, sweat and tears for a career that went up in smoke, that Cassie finds herself actually telling the truth.

“Yes… ballet, tap and jazz since I was four, and ballroom since I was eight. I was going to join the ballet, actually,” Cassie muses.

“What happened?”

“I discovered I loved to sing,” Cassie says with a smile. And suddenly this conversation is getting way too nostalgic way too fast, and they haven’t even had a drink yet.

“Now Schwim,” she says, throwing an arm round Rachel’s shoulders. “There’s going to be a lot of beautiful women in this club, so you’ve got to promise me you won’t run away from intimidation.”

Rachel shoots her a glare.

“And they’ll probably get quite friendly. So, you know,” Cassie continues with a wink.

“Cassie, where are you taking me?” Rachel asks warningly, but she’s about as threatening as a lost puppy. They round a corner, and the salsa beat floats down the street towards them.

“Dancing!” says Cassie with a grin. She presses a hand against her back and leads her into the club, smouldering at the bouncer before Rachel even has a chance to hesitate.

(She was about 98% sure there wouldn’t be a problem, but she’s still relieved at avoiding what would be possibly the most awkward moment of the last five years, at least.)

“Oh my _god_ ,” Rachel laughs as they appear in the club, hands coming up to her mouth. Cassie smirks in satisfaction, because – yeah, it is pretty impressive. It’s like a little slice of Rio crossed with hedonistic New York, all wooden floors and huge pots of (fake) flowers and chandeliers. The air is sweet with the smell of cocktails and the beat of the music thumps in Cassie’s breastbone, and the rush of what she _knows_ is going to be a fucking fantastic night hits her.

“Come on!” Cassie shouts at her over the music, and leads her away by her hand to the bar. It’s pretty packed, but she smiles her way sweetly through the crowd, and orders a couple of tequila shots. Rachel’s pressed up against her, hands resting on her waist, and when she turns round she’s still staring round in amazement.

She hands Rachel her shot, clinking the glasses with a wicked grin before she easily downs hers. Rachel follows hesitantly, making a face of absolute disgust, but she doesn’t splutter, and Cassie gains about 3% more respect for her. Clearly college life in New York has loosened her up slightly in the last five months. Cassie grins, chucking the glasses back on the bar before she drags Rachel onto the dance floor.

Rachel’s laughing as Cassie twirls her around then pulls them flush together, staring up at Cassie with wide eyes like she can’t quite believe this is happening. Something satisfied settles in Cassie’s chest, like she’s finally achieved a long sought-after goal , and she snakes her hands over Rachel’s hips to pull her even closer.

“Now the first thing you need to know, Schwimmer,” Cassie says lowly in her ear. “Is that it’s all about _sex_.” She feels Rachel sigh deeply against her, and smirks. When she pulls back slightly to look into Rachel’s eyes, they’re huge and wide, light from the chandeliers dancing off them. She slips a leg shamelessly in between Rachel’s, sliding her hands down to Rachel’s ass, and watches as Rachel’s eyes flutter closed for a moment, before opening again with such a dangerous look in them it sends a shiver through Cassie’s body.

“What do you think Ms July,” she asks her, swaying her hips with the music. “Do I have what it takes?”

“Well Schwimmer, I still think you need to learn to… loosen up a little.”

She whirls Rachel out and back into hold, and Rachel laughs joyfully and tips her head back as they begin to dance faster. The floor’s so busy they can’t move more than a few metres around, but Cassie’s nothing if not a magician with her body, and she slides teasingly up against Rachel before spinning her out, again and again.

She’s only had that shot of tequila but Cassie can feel something buzzing through her veins, as Rachel shimmies towards her, crooking a finger. Cassie smoulders back, pulling Rachel into her until they’re spinning round, feet moving furiously in an intricate cross-step. And maybe she _has_ learnt something in the past five months, because Rachel doesn’t falter, not once, and holds Cassie’s gaze firmly as they turn.

Cassie spins her out suddenly and dips her down, laughing as Rachel’s hair falls back behind her in ripples. When she pulls her back up she catches a glance of Rachel’s glowing face before she throws her arms around Cassie and kisses her hotly. Cassie smiles into her mouth, squeezing her ass as she nips affectionately at her bottom lip. She feels, rather than hears, Rachel’s moan and god she just needs _more_.

But Rachel has other ideas, pulling back and miming at her she wants a drink. Rachel rifles in her purse as they reach the bar again, and Cassie catches a glimpse of a fake ID before she slams her hand on Rachel’s, and rolls her eyes.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” she tells her, and Rachel looks affronted – even though she probably can’t hear Cassie over the speakers a metre away from them, but Cassie knows her _stop that shit now, Schwimmer_ expression is pretty easy to read.

She lets Rachel order her drink before she orders her own Bellini, and another four tequila shots, and pays for them both. She bites her lip slightly as the bartender pours them out, because Rachel _is_ underage, and she’s her student, and if anyone saw them…

She glances round to make a sort of cursory check, but all she sees is Schwimmer being chatted up by an averagely handsome man, and responding annoyingly enthusiastically. Something grips Cassie’s heart painfully, and her eyes narrow. She’s about to whack the guy round the head and tell him exactly where to fucking go, but – _what_? Rachel’s not even hers.

(And she doesn’t need to be banned from another club.)

She slides an arm round Rachel’s waist, who promptly turns round in surprise and grins up at her. Cassie’s saccharinely sweet smile does nothing to hide the jealousy in her eyes, but she hands Rachel a tequila shot before she has a chance to say anything. Rachel gamely downs it before Cassie begins to pull her away; she sees Rachel glance over her shoulder as if to apologise to her would-be suitor, but Cassie already has her sandwiched against the bar, handing her another shot.

“What was that?” Rachel asks her, and Cassie knows she’s just played way too many of her cards.

“What?” Cassie says innocently, and hands her another shot. Rachel narrows her eyes as she takes a sip of her drink, then downs the tequila, and shakes her head.

“Come on!” she says brightly. “Let’s _dance_!”

Cassie grabs both their drinks and follows Rachel back out to the dance floor, where she’s currently twirling solo. Then suddenly someone barges into her side, and she’s nearly toppled over, her drinks sloshing _everywhere_.

“What the fuck?!” she yells, whipping round to see a very apologetic looking woman holding up her hands.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” she says earnestly.

And maybe Cassie’s still rattled by that guy, because she snaps, “Yeah, you fucking should be.”

“Here, let me buy you another,” the woman offers, and Cassie softens slightly, and shrugs in concession. It doesn’t hurt that the woman’s gorgeous, all dark curls and huge brown eyes.

(She glances around for Rachel, but she’s nowhere to be seen, so she sighs and decides she at least needs a drink before she salsas through the club looking for her.)

“A Bellini, and…?” The woman turns to Cassie questioningly.

“Oh don’t bother, she’s probably had enough for tonight,” Cassie says dryly, waving a dismissive hand.

“Are you here with a friend?” the woman asks, handing Cassie her cocktail. She sort of freezes, because, _shit_ , how would she describe Schwimmer?

“Or your date?” the woman probes with a smile, and Cassie nearly chokes.

“No, dear god, she’s just… we dance together.”

“Oh sweetie, so does everyone here,” replies the woman with a smile, and Cassie inwardly curses Schwimmer for running off, because she’s _sure_ this shit would drive her wild with jealously right now.

“Hmm, well,” Cassie hums, smirking back, then she leans forward and says, “I should probably go find her before she dances off with someone else. Thanks for the drink.”

“Let me give you my number,” the woman says, handing her a card from her purse. “If you ever fancy someone else to dance with.”

Cassie licks her lips, and smirks again, before sauntering off towards the dance floor sipping her drink.

She finds Rachel within about five minutes, dancing in the middle of a group of the most outrageously camp men she’s seen outside of NYADA in a while. She momentarily pauses, smiling as she watches Rachel clearly having the time of her life, and currently the star of the crowd as she shimmies and shakes her butt around, roaring with laughter.

“Cassie!” she screams, when she catches Cassie’s eye, and elbows her way out of the group to run over and throw her arms round her.

“Having fun, Schwim?” Cassie says as she basically catches her.

“We’re supposed to be dancing!” Rachel tells her enthusiastically, taking her hand. Cassie rests her finished drink on a table and allows herself to be dragged into the crowd, where Rachel wraps her arms around her neck and pulls her closer, smiling up at her seductively.

Drunk Schwimmer is clearly horny Schwimmer, and Cassie’s not in the least bit surprised.

She leans forward and nips lightly at Rachel’s ear, before saying huskily into it, “Come on, Rachel. Show me what you’ve learnt. _Seduce me_.”

And it’s basically the best and worst thing she could possibly have said, because christ Rachel _does_.

(She should’ve known not to give Rachel a chance to act with how she eats that shit up.)

She moves away from Cassie, undulating her hips and running her hands through her hair so it falls through the air in waves. The smile she shoots at Cassie sends heat straight to her crotch, but when she tries to take Rachel back in her arms she turns round and grinds shamelessly against Cassie. Her arms come up to wrap around Cassie’s neck, and Cassie decides to play dirty, letting her hands stray tantalisingly from Rachel’s hips towards her crotch.

Rachel whips round, gasping and smiling at the same time, and Cassie smirks. Rachel snakes her hands up Cassie’s abdomen until she’s palming at her breasts, and Cassie lets her head fall back as she pulls Rachel’s hips closer to hers. Then one of Rachel’s strong hands reaches up to the nape of Cassie’s neck and pulls her down until they’re kissing hotly, gyrating against each other, and Cassie loses sense of everything except the feel of Rachel’s mouth on hers and her knee moving up against her crotch and her small hands basically massaging her ass.

(It’s not salsa, not even close, but she could give literally no fucks at this point.)

It feels like they’ve been dancing for hours, and part of Cassie wants to keep going til dawn; but she can feel Rachel getting wetter by the second against her knee and her own nipples are straining through her dress and her whole body is _humming_ in anticipation.

“Let’s go,” Cassie husks in her ear, and Rachel doesn’t need telling twice. Cassie thanks god she only lives a few blocks away, because Rachel’s basically lost all self-control and she really doesn’t want to get arrested for having sex in a cab.

They don’t even make it to Cassie’s bedroom (they barely make it into her loft), and she doesn’t know whether it’s the alcohol or watching Rachel get hit on or grinding against her for an entire evening but it’s never been this hot. _Rachel’s_ never been this hot, nipping and clawing and whining, her head tipping back against the door as she wraps her legs around Cassie.

Several hours – and way too many orgasms to count – later, Rachel still nestles into Cassie’s side as she snores gently in her sleep. A familiar sense of discomfort creeps into Cassie’s chest, but she can’t quite help herself from running her fingers lightly through Rachel’s hair, and smiling slowly in satisfaction.

*

They sleep in until about midday – hung over Schwimmer is also dead-to-the-world Schwimmer, she discovers – but Rachel doesn’t make any attempt to stay, this time, and Cassie doesn’t stop her, because between her unexpected jealousy and Rachel clinging to her like a limpet all night long, Cassie’s starting to feel a little claustrophobic.

Rachel hesitates slightly at the door before she leaves, as if waiting for Cassie to make the next move.  She’s not fucking kissing her goodbye or anything, if that’s what she’s expecting.

“I’ll see you Monday, Schwim,” Cassie tells her, and Rachel nods, says a slightly awkward ‘bye’, and turns to leave. Cassie feels a twinge of guilt, and impulsively slaps Rachel on the ass, who promptly squeals and turns round to try and glare, which is completely ruined by the grin on her face. Cassie licks her lips, smiling as she shuts the door.

She spends a couple of hours working out and choreographing, but honestly, she’s _exhausted_.

(And it’s awesome.)

She’s curled up on her couch eating leftover takeout when she hears her a knock at her door, and her heart skips a beat for a moment as she wonders if Rachel’s come back.

(Honestly, she’s less worried about the NYADA faculty finding out than she is about Schwimmer taking to following her around like a lost puppy.)

She opens her door, though, to see Lucian leaning against the frame, looking tired and a little apologetic.

“What?” she asks, crossing her arms.

Lucian hands her a small cake box, and gives her a resigned smile.

“It’s your life. I’m sorry. I’m here for when you fuck it up.”

“Fuck you,” Cassie says, but she’s smiling too, and she playfully snatches the box from him.

“It’s vegan,” he tells her as she opens the box, sniffing at the caramel-coloured cake experimentally. “I know you won’t eat anything full-fat.”

Cassie glares at him, but it’s softened by the small reminder of Rachel, and she moves away from the door to let him inside.

“Come on, I’ve got the West Wing lined up on Netflix.”

Lucian says nothing more about Rachel until he leaves hours later, both of them a bottle of wine down.

“Please be careful, Cas,” he says, unusually sincere.

“Look, I’m not gonna get caught in my studio with her, or break her little heart if that’s what you’re worried about. She knows it’s just sex,” Cassie assures him.

“Maybe she does. Maybe you’ve convinced her. I’m just worried about the day you stop convincing yourself.”

Something clenches in Cassie’s heart and her ears start buzzing, and she just doesn’t know what to say. Lucian gives her a long, hard look, and then turns and leaves her to her own thoughts.

She doesn’t move from that spot for a good ten minutes. Then suddenly she shakes herself, and turns up her music for an evening workout until it drowns out the words circling her mind.

*

The next few weeks putter along in a similar fashion.

Rachel seems to delight in making her as frustrated as possible during class, and there’s literally _nothing_ Cassie can do to stop her; especially since unleashing her sexuality is making her a halfway decent dancer.

Cassie desperately wants to play her at her own game, but she knows the moment she starts to slip from her snarky iciness – especially when criticism of Rachel’s around average dancing is 100% justifiable – her other students are going to, at the very least, lose some respect for her.

(She’s never had a lesson in her life when she hasn’t commanded the total respect of a classroom, through fear, talent, or both, and she’s not about to start now.)

So she perseveres, and yeah, maybe she’s a little harder on Rachel than is strictly necessary, but if Rachel thinks she’s about to sleep her way to a free ride through midterms she can get straight back on the plane to Ohio.

“Schwimmer, I honestly think you should take a trip to the doctor’s, because only some kind of severe inner ear infection could make you that horrifically unbalanced.”

Rachel falls out of her pirouette, nearly colliding with the dancer next to her who shoots her an angry glare. Cassie watches as she purses her lips, straightens her back then tries again.

“Schwimmer that’s just embarrassing, OK. Embarassing.”

“What-“ snaps Rachel, and Cassie raises her eyebrows. A few dancers turn round, and Rachel looks at them nervously before continuing more quietly, “What can I do better?”

“You could start by focussing properly on your spotting,” says Cassie, moving forward to lift up her chin. “Find a spot on the wall. Don’t let it go until the very last split-second, and find it again as soon as you turn.” Rachel’s staring up at her with wide eyes, still breathing heavily, and Cassie drops her hand suddenly and moves away.

“Again, Schwim,” she orders, gesturing at her to turn. It’s actually ok, and she concedes, “That’ll do. It’s all I’ve got the patience for today, at least.” She can see Rachel’s fuming, but it’s not like this isn’t run of the mill stuff.

Still, Rachel hangs out until the other students have all left the studio, then marches up to her at the piano.

“At least try and keep your criticisms constructive, _Ms July_ ,” Rachel says scathingly, and Cassie sighs.

“Do you want people to know whose bed you’ve been in lately?” Cassie asks her. Rachel scowls, looking away and crossing her arms.

“I don’t think anyone’s about to suspect anything when you’re setting a new record for insults per class,” Rachel tells her sullenly.

“Well, how about,” Cassie begins, moving forward to uncross Rachel’s arms and slide her hands around her waist, “You come over to mine tonight, and enjoy this secret we’re so wonderfully managing to keep? I’ll make it worth your while,” Cassie teases, and Rachel’s lips twitch into a reluctant smirk.

When Rachel collapses onto Cassie’s chest later that night, a contented grin plastered across her face, she doesn’t seem to have any more complaints.

*

Cassie finds herself spending gradually more time with Rachel. She discovers a new challenge in finding places to take Rachel in the city where no one will see them, and she can’t fight the buzz she gets at Rachel’s ever-enraptured face at the new wonders Cassie introduces her to.

A lot of the time though, they stay in, and Cassie doesn’t know what it is, but the sex just keeps on getting better. Sometimes it’s rough and angry and Cassie leaves Rachel with hickeys she knows it takes an extra half-hours work in the morning to cover up; usually after days when Rachel’s been particularly provocative in class, which Cassie is convinced is happening more and more just so they end up in situations like these, where Rachel’s handcuffed to Cassie’s bedpost, whining and straining in mad frustration.

“ _Cassie!”_ she screams, as Cassie blows lightly over her swollen clit, and _god_ , they should’ve been doing this months ago.

Other times it’s slower and more intense, and somehow _sadder_ , where Cassie finds herself desperately clinging to Rachel as if she’s scared she’s going to suddenly disappear. It’s these times she usually ends up lying on top of Rachel’s chest, falling asleep to the feel of Rachel’s small, strong hands running through her hair.

“Where did you grow up?” Rachel asks her softly one night, just as she’s drifting away.

“Kansas,” Cassie responds without thinking.

“Were you the Wicked Witch of the West?” Rachel says, and Cassie can hear her smiling.

“Doesn’t she turn out to be good in the end?” Cassie teases, and then falls silent as the implication of her words hits her.

Rachel says nothing either, but continues to stroke Cassie’s hair until sleep pulls her away.

*

Something in the way Lucian said _maybe she does_ has got underneath Cassie’s skin, though, and the fear that Rachel, with her impulsive, dramatic emotions, is developing some sort of attachment to her grows a little each day.

Sometime in early February a whole week passes where Rachel’s so busy the only time Cassie sees her is in class, and it puts her in an awful mood. Mostly just due to frustration; but a part of Cassie _misses_ her, and that makes her even angrier.

They’re revisiting the tango again today, and as the dancers pair off, Cassie represses a stab of jealousy at the male dancer whose waist Rachel currently has her leg wrapped round. It’s like _Everytime_ all over again, except now Cassie’s used to those legs round _her_ and it just… it fucking grates.

“Schwimmer, there’s sensual, then there’s trying to rub one off on your partner,” Cassie snaps as she walks past them, and Rachel’s cheeks flush in embarrassment, and she loses her step.

It continues like that for most of the lesson, with Cassie’s criticisms going more and more below the bar, and Rachel becoming more and more frustrated. By the end of class Rachel’s barely even reacting anymore, and Cassie knows she pushes just a little too far when she makes a lewd suggestion about her sexual prowess.

Rachel doesn’t hover after class; she grabs her things and storms out, but Cassie has absolutely no time for her diva strops right now.

(She regrets it later that night, when she’s writhing in frustration at her own fingers that are somehow nowhere near as adept as Rachel’s.)

Rachel appears in her office early the next day, and she doesn’t look like she’s slept much.

“You were out of line yesterday,” she says angrily as she marches over to Cassie. Cassie raises an eyebrow, moving round her desk to lean against it.

“Schwimmer-“ she begins, but Rachel interrupts her.

“No, you listen to me,” and Rachel says it so firmly that Cassie actually does, because she’s never seen her quite like this. “The way you’re acting is ridiculous and completely unjustified. I get that you’re not going to be any nicer to me in class, but going out of your way to _humiliate_ me every time I dance with someone else?”

Cassie’s eyes narrow. “Schwimmer, I am not _jealous_ , if that’s what you’re accusing me of.”

“Well what was that in class yesterday?” Rachel demands, gesturing angrily. “And what about the other week when that woman hit on me at that bar. Or back in January at the salsa club?”

“We’re just fucking,” Cassie tells her coldly. “And if you can’t deal with that, then get the hell out of my office.”

“You know what,” says Rachel in a low voice. “I can deal with sleeping with you, and I can deal with your _unconventional_ methods. But I can’t deal with someone who doesn’t have an ounce of respect for me.”

And with that she turns on her heel, and storms out of the office, leaving Cassie standing in shock.

*

She’s literally too mad to even speak to Rachel for most of the next week, and when she does it’s only a few, snapped criticisms. Rachel’s clearly just as angry, determinedly trying to avoid looking at Cassie, but she doesn’t miss the glances Rachel casts at her across class when her back’s turned.

(She’s pretty sure Rachel’s waiting for her to apologise, but she’s got to be fucking _joking_ if she thinks that’s about to happen.)

And whatever, it was fun while it lasted. She’d pretty much expected for Schwimmer to blow up in her face the moment she discovered Cassie really was a cold-hearted bitch underneath her outer layers of cold-hearted bitch, and she couldn’t care less.

(Aside from being _really_ fucking frustrated without regular, mind-blowing orgasms, but the couple of men and women she picks up at bars do the job well enough.)

She’s fucking _fine_.

Except a couple of weeks later and Rachel starts to look less mad, and more like a wounded puppy. Cassie brushes it off at first, but it gradually begins to wear her down, until her heart starts twinging with guilt whenever she glances over at Rachel to see her look away quickly with round, occasionally tearful eyes.

She almost confesses their argument to Lucian, except that makes it sound like they’re having some kind of lovers spat, so she leaves it.

Instead, she spends several sleepless nights staring out at the nearly star-less sky, alternating between dark coffee and dark rum.

When Rachel bursts into laughter in the middle of class the next day, something in Cassie’s heart softens. Rachel seems to feel her gaze, and glances over, and the brief lick of her lips before she looks away sends tingles through Cassie’s body.

She switches her lesson plan and divides the class of into pairs, beckoning Rachel over to her.

“Schwim, with me.”

Rachel comes over slightly hesitantly, but she’s clearly biting back a smile. Cassie pulls her into hold, and the feel of Rachel’s hand on her back and the other almost _caressing_ her arm is so familiar it makes her heart ache a little.

The music changes, and they begin to dance. Cassie says nothing, but her eyes don’t leave Rachel’s as they turn around the floor, moving almost perfectly in time with the music. She can feel her heartbeat quickening far too quickly, and her body somehow instinctively moving closer to Rachel’s, and maybe she has missed this a bit.

“Keep your back straight,” Cassie tells her, pressing against Rachel’s spine, and she feels Rachel’s soft body collide tantalisingly with her own.

“That’s good, Schwimmer,” she says softly, and Rachel shoots her a smirk.

It’s not an apology, exactly, but Cassie feels something shift; and it seems to be enough for Rachel, who's clearly missed Cassie just as much if the sounds coming from her mouth as Cassie pins her against the piano are anything to go by.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rachel kind of becomes a regular fixture in Cassie’s life, and Cassie honestly doesn’t even know when or how that happened. She just wakes up one morning and realises she’s spent every day that week with Rachel in some form, and she doesn’t even mind. She just feels her heart swell a little in contentment because her loft’s starting to feel a little quiet when Rachel’s not in it, and her bed’s cold and empty and it’s always harder to sleep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the amazing comments I've received over the past week or so, I'm so glad people are enjoying reading this story as much as I am writing it! This chapter's a little shorter than usual, but I'm already ploughing on with the next two so they should be up soon.

So.

They’re wandering round Chelsea, and Cassie has absolutely _no_ idea where they’re going, but she’d agreed to let Rachel ‘surprise’ her, something which she’d regretted pretty much as soon as the words left her mouth.

(She’s still feeling a little guilty about being such a bitch to her, so when Rachel proposes she takes her somewhere she’s ‘been dying to go for _ages_ ’, Cassie lets herself be persuaded with only minimal objection.

It doesn’t hurt that Rachel’s topless and curled up against her, stroking her stomach when she asks.)

“Schwimmer, _where_ are we going?” she asks for about the fifth time that evening.

“You’ll see, you’ll see!” Rachel tells her, and Cassie rolls her eyes. She never quite understands where Rachel gets her boundless enthusiasm for life from, and wonders sometimes if she had a particularly blissful childhood.

(Something in Rachel’s stubborn resilience to Cassie’s borderline persecution of her makes her think otherwise, though, but that thought always causes her heart to twinge uncomfortably, so she pushes it away.)

They round a corner into a dingy, gaudy street, with honest to god _fairy lights_ hanging from one of the buildings, and she’s basically about to turn and run when Rachel grabs her hand, and goes, “Ok, now you have to promise not to get mad-“

“Schwimmer… ”

“-but it’s all anyone’s been talking about on off-off-Broadway and it’s _hilarious_ and really sarcastic and a little dark, so I thought you might like it…”

Cassie’s chest feels like it’s shrunk in on itself, and her expression literally freezes as she tries to keep her rush of emotions in check. She takes a deep breath, and glances at Rachel, who’s looking up at her hopefully and a little nervously, and all she wants to do is tell her exactly where to go and high tail it back to her loft; but upsetting Rachel _again_ is possibly the only thing worse than walking into that theatre right now.

(And when the fuck did _that_ happen anyway?)

“I swear to god, if we see _anyone_ …” Cassie says warningly, but Rachel’s already dragging her inside with a huge grin plastered across her face.

She hasn’t been inside a theatre in about seven years; not since she went to watch one of Lucian’s new plays and got so drunkenly hysterical she was asked to leave.

(He’d spent the better part of the evening trying to calm her down instead of talking to the press, and it took about six months for him to forgive her for that.)

It’s a small, fading little place, slightly musty and with the faint sound of old pipes buzzing away in the distance. It reminds her of the places she worked in when she was still at high school, trying to fit in rehearsals _and_ classes _and_ a bar job to help her mother pay the rent on her tiny Brooklyn apartment. She grips Rachel’s hand tighter before she can stop herself, but Rachel doesn’t show any signs of letting go. She shows their tickets to the usher and chats excitedly to him about the show, seemingly oblivious to Cassie’s discomfort except for the small, soothing movements of her thumb on Cassie’s hand.

Her heart clenches when she sees the stage, faded velvet curtains still hanging closed and the orchestra tuning up in front. Rachel leads them to their seats – thankfully near the back, and she feels a sudden wave of gratitude to Rachel who undoubtedly usually sits in the front three rows of every show she sees – and Cassie sinks down, crossing her legs and clenching her hands tightly in her lap. Rachel’s reading through the programme, making excited little noises every thirty seconds, but Cassie’s throat has gone dry and all she can do is sit in silence.

Shit, she can’t do this. She can’t sit through this again. She has to get out.

“Schwim-“

But then the lights dim and Rachel gasps and claps her hands together, and she looks so fucking happy that Cassie just closes her eyes for a moment, sinks back into her seat and bites her lip. When she opens her eyes again she’s composed, and if Rachel notices anything she doesn’t say.

The curtains open and a striking woman of some Latina background she can’t place begins to sing about meeting her childhood sweetheart twenty years on, and Cassie rolls her eyes so hard it actually hurts.

But the woman’s voice is beautiful, and the song is well-written and it actually is kind of funny in the dry way that Cassie loves, and it has a similar feel to the things Lucian writes. She forces herself to focus on the song and its layers of innuendo and snark, and not on what it would feel like to jump up on that stage and start singing herself…

The story draws her in, though, as the woman recounts the dreams she gave up her young love for, and the successes she achieved. It feels so bittersweet, and it grips Cassie, and she gets swept up in the emotion of this woman’s journey in a way she hasn’t let herself be since she was last performing.

And then suddenly it all comes crashing down, and the woman’s sobbing on stage with her life in ruins, and Cassie’s hand comes up to her mouth in horror.

(And for a moment she can't fucking believe Rachel dragged her to something so goddamn heartbreaking.)

She’s blinking away the tears as fast as she can but they just keep falling. Her make up’s going to be a fucking _mess_ but that’s the least of her worries, because there’s people all around them; and maybe they can’t see, maybe they don’t even know who she is, but Rachel does. Rachel who she’s bullied and teased and worked harder than anything to hide all her insecurities and weaknesses from and convince her that Cassie’s better than her. Rachel who is the absolute last person she’d ever want to see her cry.

(And suddenly the pain that hit her when she sung _but to cry in front of you, that’s the worst thing I could do_ comes back with such a heavy dose of irony she almost laughs.)

But then Rachel takes Cassie’s hand in both of her own and holds it in her lap. Cassie’s breath hitches for a moment, but she starts stroking so soothingly with her thumb that the cries Cassie’s been biting back force their way out her chest, and she slams a hand across her mouth to stop herself from making a sound as she sobs. She can’t think or feel anything apart from longing and despair and humiliation and the aching sting of regret, and she hangs on to the feel of Rachel’s touch like an anchor to pull her through the waves of emotion hitting her.

She watches as the woman on stage claws her life back together, and something in her resolute determination to carry on makes Cassie suddenly so ashamed. Her tears dry up, and her chest settles, and expands with not _hope_ exactly, but…

They walk home in silence, and it’s not awkward, exactly, and Rachel’s still sniffling away as she tries to compose herself.

“Schwim…”

She can’t quite bring herself to say _thank you_ , because that would mean acknowledging the gravity of what just happened, and Cassie can’t face admitting to Rachel the emotions running through her right now.

(She suspects Rachel knows, anyway, from the look of understanding on her face, but she’s just too tired to be angry about it anymore.)

She’s exhausted, honestly, and she just wants to curl up in a ball in her duvet and never face anyone again. But it’s so late and Rachel lives so far away, so she ushers her into her loft and silently climbs into bed. She turns away from Rachel so she can finally hide her face, but when Rachel slowly wraps her arms around her and snuggles up behind her, Cassie can’t resist tugging her arms underneath her own and pulling her in a little tighter.

Rachel falls asleep soon after, but she lies awake for what feels like hours. She lets the tears fall silently down her cheeks, and for the first time in a really long time something in her chest uncoils.

*

Rachel disappears off back to Bushwick the next morning as usual, saying absolutely nothing about Cassie’s minor breakdown the night before or her puffy, red eyes when she wakes up. Cassie can’t quite believe she’s able to keep her mouth shut, and avoids her as much as possible in class for the next week in case she’s just storing up all her questions and teenage insistence they just _sing about their feelings_.

(Because that’s worked out for her so fucking well in the past.)

Rachel, however, seems to be attempting to give her space, judging by how she looks away quickly whenever Cassie glances over to find her watching her in concern, and how she never lingers after class but just offers Cassie a small smile as she leaves with her rest of the students. By Friday Cassie manages to swallow the fear rising in her chest and makes a snarky joke about Rachel’s skimpy leotard as she saunters past, which has Rachel blushing and attempting to glare at the same time. Cassie doesn’t miss her pleased smile in the mirror, though, and she feels a little like she’s gained back some control.

(Even more so when she’s ripping the leotard off Rachel later that night as she rides and thrusts against Cassie’s face unashamedly wantonly.)

It’s basically exactly the same as every other time they’ve had sex, except the next morning Cassie pulls Rachel back into bed when she tries to leave, and spends another hour going down on her just to find an excuse for why.

“This is bliss,” sighs Rachel happily as she sinks back against the pillows, Cassie sliding up her body to collapse next to her. “I could never leave.”

Cassie bites her lip, and then says in what she hopes is a casual voice, “Stay here for the day.”

“Really?” says Rachel happily, and Cassie occupies herself with trailing her fingers over Rachel’s stomach so she doesn’t have to look at her face.

“Yeah,” Cassie replies. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Rachel chuckles, and Cassie can’t help but lift her head to grin at her.

Rachel stays for most of the rest of the day, and they only have sex once more, but it’s somehow still one of the best days Cassie’s had in years. They just kind of hang out, curled up on Cassie’s sofa with their legs just brushing, as Rachel makes her laugh with stories of her high school Glee club. She’s still unsure as to what exactly Rachel’s high school experience was like – she doesn’t seem willing to share, and Cassie’s not about to pry – but she can just imagine Rachel in all her over-enthusiasm bossing about a group of resigned musical theatre kids, and it actually seems kind of adorable.

Rachel stays over more after that weekend. Sometimes Cassie invites her over a little earlier in the evening and they watch really bad reality TV and eat takeout before going to bed. Sometimes she stays for a few hours the next morning and Cassie makes a gesture at cooking her breakfast and they take long, leisurely baths together.

It’s nice. She’s _happy_. It’s not a big deal.

*

One Wednesday evening Cassie calls Rachel up, and Rachel mumbles something about being busy with homework. She’s about to shrug it off and hang up, but something in Rachel’s voice catches her.

“You OK, Schwim?” she asks, and she hears Rachel heave a huge sigh.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she attempts, and really, Rachel needs to seriously fucking work on her acting skills.

“Schwim, what’s happened?” she says in a kind of resigned voice, but she can’t help feeling a little concerned.

“Nothing, it’s just… in theatre we had this writing assignment and I’m _really_ not good at play writing but I tried so hard, and then we had to perform it today and… oh Cassie it was _horrible_ , and everyone was sniggering and I don’t understand why playwriting is a requirement for _Broadway actresses_.”

Rachel sniffles, and she frowns for a moment at the thought of Rachel being publicly humiliated in the middle of her class.

(Which- yeah OK, she’s not oblivious to the fact that she’s done that for a good half of the last nine months, but she was making a _point_.

And she does it to everyone.

And…)

“Well, Schwim, you’re either going to have to become an incredible playwright overnight, or learn to deal with idiots laughing at you, in public, on stage, at something you’ve worked _incredibly_ hard on.”

Rachel sniffs again.

“Did that, did that happen to you?” she asks hesitantly.

“More times than I can count,” Cassie tells her. “Once when I was 19 I had to prepare my own dance interpretation of a monologue for an audition, and I was literally laughed off the stage. And then when I got out into the wings, all the other actors were in hysterics as well.”

“But you’re the best dancer I know!” Rachel says in disbelief, and Cassie can’t help but smile at that.

“Yeah exactly, but sometimes you can be the best and you still screw up, or people don’t like what you’ve done with a piece, or the girl after you is sleeping with the director,” Cassie says dryly.

“Isn’t that kind of what I’m doing now?” Rachel teases, and Cassie snorts.

“Schwimmer, no amount of sex in the world is going to get you a free ride in midterms next month.”

Rachel laughs, and Cassie smiles happily, relieved she’s managed to divert some kind of crisis.

“I’m gonna go now, Schwim,” she tells her.

“OK,” Rachel replies, and Cassie can hear she’s still smiling. “Cassie… thank you.”

“See you tomorrow, Schwimmer.”

*

Rachel kind of becomes a regular fixture in Cassie’s life, and Cassie honestly doesn’t even know when or how that happened. She just wakes up one morning and realises she’s spent every day that week with Rachel in some form, and she doesn’t even mind. She just feels her heart swell a little in contentment because her loft’s starting to feel a little quiet when Rachel’s not in it, and her bed’s cold and empty and it’s always harder to sleep.

She’s dimly aware of this constant, vague feeling of panic that Rachel’s suddenly going to disappear, but she pushes it away because they’re just having so much _fun._

(And maybe she shouldn’t be quite so accepting of Rachel skipping class to stay in her bed, or bailing on her friends to go out with her, but she feels like she’s living in some addictive, rosy bubble and she doesn’t want it to burst.)

When Cassie stops to think for a moment – which she doesn’t much, anymore, because it just hurts her head – Rachel seems just as addicted as her, bending and changing and relinquishing more and more control to Cassie.

(And she’s not abusing it, whatever Lucian says, because she’s not even a bitch to her in class anymore. She’s probably _too_ nice, or at least too familiar, but she doesn’t really give a fuck as long as it means she has Rachel.)

Rachel’s make-up darker and her clothes are skimpier and she doesn’t look _anything_ like the girl who first walked into Cassie’s class. And it’s not just the leotard barely covering her breasts; it’s the constant insecurity Cassie can see in her eyes that she’s not quite sexy enough, which is _ridiculous_ , because most of Cassie’s classes these days are spent not trying to throw Rachel up against the piano.

One day she just gives up all together, and the last student has barely made it out of the door before she slams it shut and does just that.

“I didn’t think… we could do this… in public…” Rachel gasps, tousled hair falling back against the polished wood as she writhes against Cassie.

“Then maybe you should stop driving me crazy in class,” Cassie tells her hoarsely. Rachel grins wickedly before she cries and falls apart under Cassie’s hands.

*

More than once Rachel bursts into tears whilst she’s at Cassie’s loft. The first time is fucking terrifying, and she very nearly tells Rachel to harden the fuck up and take her waterworks somewhere else. But she quickly discovers it’s usually over no more than an emotional solo she sung that day, or an argument with her flatmate, or Barbra releasing new tour dates. Those times Cassie lets Rachel cry it out before they carry on doing whatever they were doing before.

Sometimes, though, Cassie catches Rachel silently crying for what appears to be no apparent reason, huddled brokenly on the corner of her couch or next to her in bed. Those are the times Cassie learns something is genuinely wrong, something that Rachel doesn’t want to burden Cassie with but at the same time desperately needs comforting about.

Those times Cassie draws her into her arms and strokes her hair whilst Rachel sobs into her shoulder. She doesn’t let go until Rachel’s cried enough to choke out what’s wrong, and Cassie can find a way of cheering her up by snarkily belittling whoever’s upset her or sharing a story of her own or just giving her advice.

She doesn’t know why she’s doing it, why she’s sitting in her bed cuddling a nineteen year old girl some casting director had the nerve to call unattractive, but all she wants to do anymore is just make sure Rachel’s happy.

A lot of the time that involves taking more and more risks, running round the city hand in hand with Rachel, laughing their heads off, in danger of being seen but unable to care when Rachel jumps up on a karaoke stage, blows her a kiss and proceeds to seduce the entire audience with the most raunchy version of _Whistle_ she’s ever seen in her life, smouldering all the while at Cassie across the room.

This whole thing started just to see how much she could mess with Rachel’s head, but now she feels like she’s being dragged along through some crazy adventure by this beautiful, laughing girl and she doesn’t ever want it to end.

*

She’s never actually _asked_ Rachel if she’s seeing someone else, she’s just assumed she isn’t.

(Like she’d even have enough hours in the day between classes and the amount of time she spends in Cassie’s loft, anyway.)

But then she sees Rachel and Brody laughing together in the corridor one day, and jealously hits her so hard and strong she almost punches something. Or someone. Her eyes narrow as she walks towards them, Rachel playing with her hair as Brody regales her with some well-used story.

“Don’t you have some weights you should be lifting or something Brody?” she asks loudly, and Rachel turns round in surprise. “Those abs won’t keep themselves,” she says sweetly, and Brody looks unimpressed. He seems to get the message, though, and smiles at Rachel before walking away.

Rachel opens her mouth to say something, but Cassie just gives her a look before she stalks past her into the dance studio. Rachel looks a little nervous when she follows her in, but Cassie ignores that anything just happened – because honestly, she just doesn’t want to see Rachel embarrass herself with someone destined for the chorus, at best – and starts her lesson.

(And maybe she’s a little icier to Rachel than usual, but whatever, her balance is horrendous.

And Rachel still agrees to come back to her loft, so…)

“Is there something going on with you and Brody?” Cassie asks, slightly sullenly, later that evening as they’re on the couch eating noodles.

“No,” says Rachel, looking up in surprise. Cassie bites her lip.

“He looked very friendly earlier,” Cassie says a little more sharply, stabbing at the noodles with her chopsticks.

“He’s a friendly person,” Rachel says, shrugging. Cassie snorts, before throwing her chopsticks down and stalking over to her kitchen counter.

“Cassie, we’re just friends!” Rachel insists, uncomprehending. Cassie chucks her food on the countertop before whipping round to look at Rachel.

“Rachel, I know what Brody’s idea of friendship is, OK,” Cassie tells her snarkily. Rachel’s eyes widen in surprise and Cassie realises she just used Rachel’s first name. It wrong foots her completely, and she snaps, “You know what, if you want to fuck Brody, that’s fine!”

Rachel jumps up. “Oh, you’re one to talk about _fucking Brody_ ,” she says angrily, her eyes flashing as she moves over to Cassie. Cassie feels like she’s been stabbed, and for a moment her breath catches in her throat.

Then she rolls her eyes so hard her entire head moves and yells, “It was just sex!”

“Well, isn’t that what this is?!” Rachel demands indignantly, and Cassie freezes, because she _knows_ Rachel’s calling her bluff right now. “Because if it is you shouldn’t have a problem with _whoever_ I spend my time with when I’m not here.”

Cassie can’t say anything. She can’t even meet Rachel’s flashing eyes, challenging her to cross a line they’d silently agreed to never even acknowledge. Rachel shakes her head and laughs in disbelief, before she snatches her bag from the couch and stalks across the room.

Cassie literally _cannot breathe_ as her worst nightmare comes to life. She can’t lose her, she _can’t_.

Then the tenuous grip she has on her dignity and control slips completely, and she strides across the room after Rachel, catching her arm just as she reaches for the door.

“What?!” shouts Rachel, whipping round. But Cassie doesn’t answer. She just shoves Rachel roughly against the door and crashes their mouths together, wrapping her arms tightly around Rachel’s body. For a second she’s terrified Rachel’s going to shove her away, but maybe she’s learnt to speak Cassie’s language now, because she just sort of melts into Cassie as if this was the answer she wanted.

“You’re mine, ok?” Cassie tells her breathlessly, nipping sharply at her neck because she’s always been better with her body than with words. Rachel gasps, head tipping back against the wall as nails dig into Cassie’s back. “You’re mine.” Her bites turn into kisses, up and down Rachel’s neck until she presses her lips back softly against Rachel’s.

Rachel’s small hands push her back slightly, so she can look at her with wide, shining eyes and say softly, “I’m yours, I promise.” And it breaks Cassie’s heart, because it’s all she’s both ever and never wanted to hear. Rachel tucks a strand of Cassie’s hair behind her ear, and Cassie can’t resist letting her eyes flutter closed for a moment and leaning into Rachel’s touch.

Cassie carries her slowly to her bed, and they kiss languidly with their limbs tangled up in one another, hands stroking and caressing everywhere they can reach. All Cassie can think about is finding a way to make her stay, make sure she never, ever leaves her. And it _terrifies_ her. She’s given up all her cards to this girl without even knowing how. She wants to shove Rachel out of her bed and her loft and her life but she just _can’t_.

So instead she slowly peels off Rachel’s blouse, brushing her lips almost imperceptibly across her stomach and watches as Rachel’s abs flutter in reaction. She tip toes her fingers across her stomach, marvelling at the soft skin until Rachel misses her mouth too much and pulls them back together. Cassie loses herself in their kiss, and barely notices as Rachel rolls them over until she’s straddling Cassie.

Christ she’s _gorgeous_. Cassie watches breathless as Rachel slowly peels off her bra, sliding it off her body as she smiles seductively down at Cassie. She leans over her teasingly, her hair forming a curtain around them as Cassie’s hands stroke up and down her sides.

“You’re so beautiful, Rachel,” she whispers, and the look of joy and amazement and disbelief in Rachel’s eyes at those words _breaks her heart_ , because she knows, she _knows_ how entirely she convinced Rachel of the complete opposite.

Rachel leans down to kiss her with such passion her entire body feels like it bursts into flame, heat tingling from her crotch all the way down to her toes. They barely break contact, even as they slowly peel off each other’s clothes, gasping breathlessly before they come back together. And _god_ Rachel’s good with her fingers now, hitting some spot inside of her that sets every nerve in her body on fire. They claw at each other as they move, as if they can’t get close enough, and when they come apart, almost simultaneously, they both have tears sliding down their cheeks.

Rachel burrows into Cassie’s side as they fall asleep, and Cassie doesn’t let her body go for the entire night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She knows, she knows how she feels, she knows how deep she’s in, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Rachel is here, with her, and that she’s hers._
> 
> _(She’s too terrified to think about what that means, exactly, because there’s no way she could manage anything other than this casual affair they’ve got going._
> 
> _Except it’s not casual, not anymore, but the thought that Rachel might want something else now makes her chest constrict in fear.)_

So.

Cassie wakes up to find herself still clutching onto Rachel, whose sleeping head is currently nestled in Cassie’s breasts. She’s snoring lightly, as always, with a content smile on her face, and Cassie honestly doesn’t think anyone has ever been so perfect.

She knows, she _knows_ how she feels, she knows how deep she’s in, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Rachel is here, with her, and that she’s _hers_.

(She’s too terrified to think about what that means, exactly, because there’s no way she could manage anything other than this casual affair they’ve got going.

Except it’s not casual, not anymore, but the thought that Rachel might want something else now makes her chest constrict in fear.)

All she wants to know is that Rachel isn’t going anywhere and nothing’s going to change. And she was honestly so convinced of the former last night, when Rachel clawed into her and insisted she belonged to Cassie, in between desperate kisses and loving caresses. But there’s a creeping terror growing slowly inside her that Rachel is going to want something from her she just can’t give. She’s seen the depths of Rachel’s heart and the intensity of her emotions when she stands up on stage and pours every ounce into her performance, and it renders her awestruck constantly. But she knows that someone with so much emotion to give needs to receive so much security and validation and connection in return, and Cassie doesn’t even think she could be _capable_ of that, even if the idea didn’t terrify her to the core.

Maybe Rachel really is hers, right at this moment, but sooner or later she’s just going to ask too much of Cassie, and she knows the deeper they get the nearer that point approaches.

She clings tighter to Rachel instinctively, brushing her hair gently out of her eyes.

*

Lucian corners her one of the rare weekends Rachel isn’t at her place.

“This makes a nice change,” he comments as they munch at Thai takeout on her couch.

“What, Thai?” Cassie asks.

“You finding a break in your busy schedule of sleeping with your student to actually see your friend,” Lucian says coolly. Cassie sighs angrily, putting down her food.

“Come on, you might as well get this off your chest. I wouldn’t want to disturb your dinner,” she tells him sweetly.

“You have to stop seeing her,” Lucian says matter of factly. Cassie laughs for a moment, but the smile dies from her lips when she registers his serious expression.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she replies icily calmly.

“No, I don’t,” Lucian concedes. “But you’re one slip away from losing your job, Cassandra.”

Her eyes narrow, because seriously he’s not her fucking _grandmother_.

“Oh, don’t-“

“You’re a teacher who’s basically living with her student. When you’re not even in a relationship. And she’s still taking your class.”

Cassie’s deathly silent, staring stonily out of the window.

She knows what she’s doing, but _christ_ when Lucian lays it out like that…

“You have to end it.”

“I can’t…” she says brokenly, her voice cracking.

“Cassie you have to.”

Cassie’s head snaps round to look at Lucian in defiance, but all he sees is her trembling lip and shining eyes and her game is given away completely.

(He’s known her from the days when she still cried openly like she is now, and part of her briefly wonders how she’s hidden it from him for this long.)

“Oh, _Cass_ ,” Lucian sighs in anguish, and his firm expression melts away as he moves across the couch in an instant to wrap his arms round Cassie. Her head barely meets his chest before she dissolves into sobs, burrowing up against him as if she can just hide a little longer from everything she’s feeling.

“Cassie,” Lucian says soothingly, stroking her hair and rubbing her back. “Baby, it’s ok. It’s gonna be ok.”

Cassie really wishes she could believe that, even for a second.

*

Cassie feels like someone has simultaneously ripped her heart from her chest and squeezed her lungs dry when she wakes up the next morning. She hobbles barefoot across her loft as if she’s attained some major injury, and as she sinks into the corner of her couch, cradling her black coffee, she muses that no broken ankle or sprained wrist has ever been as painful as this.

She sits sipping at her coffee almost unmoved for the next hour. There’s nowhere she can escape this, nothing she can do to forget. Lucian’s still sleeping in her room next door – and that’s just another wound to her already mutilated heart, how achingly she’d wished it was Rachel’s arms wrapped round her in comfort the night before – and she desperately wants to leave before he wakes up, but her limbs feel like lead.

She couldn’t move even if she knew where to go.

Lucian pads out eventually, and makes two more coffees before he sits softly down next to her. They sit drinking silently for a while, and Cassie knows Lucian would sit in silence with her the whole day if she needed him too, but maybe letting a few words out will get some of this debilitating weight off her body.

“I just wanted to see if I could,” she croaks. Lucian says nothing, but calmly sips his drink, waiting for her to continue. “She was so… she was so arrogant,” she laughs brokenly, “And stubborn, and determined. And she was so goddamn talented. But then she turned out to be nothing at all like I expected, and I just couldn’t let go.”

She bites her lip, and takes a calming breath.

“I obviously never thought this would happen,” she tells Lucian, looking ashamed. “I honestly thought I was in control.”

“Cassie, you can’t control your emotions,” Lucian tells her gently.

“Well, I’ve got pretty good at it over the last ten years,” she says darkly.

“No you haven’t. You’ve just got good at pretending you don’t feel them.”

Cassie rolls her eyes, and sniffles.

“It’s that damn girl and her furby eyes,” Cassie says, and she tries to be angry about it but she can feel the smile tugging at her lips. Lucian’s silent, and when she looks over she can see him fighting some kind of inner battle.

“Look, what can I… I can’t…” Cassie trails off, because she can’t even say the words out loud, let alone try and justify them.

“Yeah, I know,” Lucian tells her, always intuitively understanding. “But I stand by what I said last night; I think you need to get her out of your life. This is incredibly unhealthy.”

Cassie’s heart feels like it collapses in on itself, and she sips shakily at her coffee just to fight back the fresh onslaught of tears.

“Obviously I can see you’re not about to do that,” Lucian admits. “And I do not… I’m not even going to go there with embarking on some relationship with your student,” he continues, shaking his head in despair. “But whatever you decide to do, you can’t do it while she’s still in your class.”

Cassie rests her elbow on the sofa and leans into her hand, rubbing at her aching temples.

“I just need some time,” she says quietly. “I just… I just need some time.”

*

Cassie curses herself for uttering those words as mid-terms roll around and Rachel all but disappears from her life.

She is _not_ pining (because after her minor-breakdown she’s holding firmly onto her last shreds of dignity); she just misses Rachel’s laugh, and her smirks across the dance studio, and that twinkle in her eyes spelling the _best_ kind of trouble, and the way she burrows into Cassie’s body late at night, and how Cassie feels almost like she has someone to come home to…

She’s not pining.

What she is doing: anything to avoid thinking. Which – she’s basically in the tenth circle of hell, being left alone with her thoughts. It’s her least favourite pastime, after attending anything Broadway related, and being nice to Lucian’s egotistical boyfriend.

She spends as much time as possible in the dance studio, focussing on constructing an elaborate routine rather than whether or not she scared Rachel with her desperation.

(Because she goddamn scared herself.)

She sees Rachel once, very briefly, somewhere in the middle of exams. She’s just lazily stretching out at the barre after her last terrified examinee of the day has left, when Rachel pokes her head into the room, beaming as she spots Cassie.

“Hey, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’ve missed you so much!” she says in a breathless rush, running over to kiss Cassie briefly. “I’ve got to go, I’ve got to study! I’ll see you at my exam tomorrow!”

And then she’s off again, hurrying back out of the dance studio, as Cassie sing-songs sadly, “Bye-e.”

Rachel’s exam is basically torture; an hour of studying Rachel’s form as she performs an intricate set of exercises that Cassie has to attempt to scrutinise. Her brain is not cooperating and she ends up staring absently at Rachel’s _perfect_ body as she thinks over and over again how she can possibly find a way to let this girl go.

When the music ends and Rachel looks over at her expectantly, Cassie realises she’s staring a little too intensely. She shakes herself, blushing furiously (and christ she hasn’t blushed since she was fifteen) and dismisses Rachel, not meeting the shy smile that she shoots Cassie’s way as she leaves.

(She definitely marks her too generously, but Rachel will have another teacher soon to put her back in her place. It’s sure as hell not going to be her anymore.)

*

They’re sitting on the couch eating salad – except Cassie’s really just pushing hers around the bowl, trying to work up the courage to even begin this conversation she would literally rather walk over burning coals than have.

“Is everything okay?” Rachel asks slowly, and Cassie looks up in surprise. Rachel’s watching her in such concern it makes Cassie’s heart wrench.

“Yeah. Course,” Cassie says lightly, attempting a smile before she goes back to her food. A few moments pass, and then, “Schwimmer-“

She’s interrupted by the loud blast of _Don’t Rain on My Parade_ emitting from Rachel’s phone.

“Shoot,” Rachel says, hurriedly swallowing her food as she reaches forward to answer the call. “Hello? Yeah, I’m at… I’m at Cassie’s.”

Cassie swallows audibly. So Rachel _has_ told her friends about them.

“What, are you _serious_? Moving in?! Oh my god…. Yeah, okay…. Yeah I’ll be like half an hour.” Rachel hangs up and grabs her things.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve got to go,” she says in a rush, searching for her shoes. “Santana’s just turned up at the apartment saying she’s _moving in_?!”

Cassie has literally no idea who the fuck Santana is, but she’s currently number one on her hit list for dragging Rachel away _of all the moments_.

“Okay, um, I’ll see you later?” Cassie asks, as Rachel leans forward to kiss her.

“I dunno, maybe!” Rachel replies, rushing out of the loft. “I’ll call you!”

But Santana causes such havoc that she doesn’t see Rachel for an entire week. What she does get: two rushed phone calls and several texts of apologies and lamentations that Rachel misses her and suggestive comments about how she’ll make it up to her.

It drives her _crazy_.

The more she’s forced to live without Rachel the more she realises she can’t do it at all, and it terrifies her. She doesn’t eat and barely sleeps for most of the week; all she does is dance around her studio until she’s collapsing with exhaustion, and then she sits with a mug of black coffee by her huge windows for most of the night, staring out across the city as she tries to pick one clear thought out of the blizzard in her mind.

But every time she so much as considers seriously committing to Rachel she’s hit with a wave of fear so hard it sucks the breath from her lungs, closely followed by panic at the idea Rachel might not actually want her at all.

And then she’s back at the start, unable to find some way of securing her happiness and sanity, but crippled at the idea of trying to push Rachel out of her life.

(All she can picture is Rachel’s bright little face crumpling with hurt and the belief Cassie truly doesn’t care about her at _all_ and she just can’t do it.)

She can feel her entire life spiralling out of control and there’s not a thing she can do to stop it.

*

Rachel comes up to her after class the next Wednesday, smiling happily.

“Hey!” she says, as Cassie busies herself with noting down some choreography just so she can put off having to look at Rachel.

“Long time, no see, Schwim,” Cassie says casually.

“I know, I’m so sorry, but it’s been an absolute _nightmare_ with Santana – although I think everything’s settled for now. But _honestly_ Cassie she just waltzed in, demanding _my_ walk-in wardrobe space for her bedroom and-“

“No offence, Schwim, but I really don’t care about your baby Broadway drama,” Cassie tells her, and when Rachel’s silent she actually looks up, her heart twinging for a moment.

Rachel just rolls her eyes, though, and says, “Look, I just wanted to know if you’re free tonight? I have to go out of town tomorrow, so…”

“Oh? Where are you going?” Cassie asks.

“Just back to Ohio,” sighs Rachel, moving to lean against the piano. “It’s Mr. Schue’s wedding and all the Glee club are going back home for it. He’s hiring out some big hotel so we’re all staying the night and flying back Sunday.”

“Cute,” says Cassie dryly. “All your high school friends as in… your ex-boyfriend…?” she asks, with an exaggerated pout.

Rachel rolls her eyes again.

“Yes, Finn will be there, if that’s what you’re talking about,” she tells her.

“Drunk in a hotel with your ex,” Cassie says drolly, moving to assemble her choreography from the piano. “Sounds like a recipe for fun.”

“Cassie, nothing’s going to happen,” Rachel insists, following her round the piano. Cassie bristles. “I’m over Finn and he’s over me, and in any case…” She trails off, gesturing at Cassie.

Cassie bites her lip.

“Whatever, Schwim. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah,” says Rachel, suddenly smiling at her like an over-excited puppy. “I’ll bring food.” She leans forward to press her lips against Cassie’s, still smiling.

“Hmm, well I can’t expect any alcohol I guess,” Cassie says into her mouth. Rachel swats at her arm, and kisses her one last time before pulling away and almost skipping out the door.

Cassie leans against the piano, suddenly feeling exhausted.

*

Despite Rachel’s assurances, this niggling feeling about her high school rendezvous plagues her for the rest of the day. It’s the kind of low-level worry she’s had for a while, but she’s always been so good at forcing it into the background; and yet since her evening with Lucian she’s feeling everything at ten times its normal intensity. She’s been rendered incapable of pushing any of these goddamn emotions away, and all she can think about is how much Rachel loved her ex and god why is she _crying_?

Cassie hastily wipes the tears away, and takes a deep breath, blinking hard. She catches sight of her reflection in the huge mirrors of her dark studio, and she stops moving for a moment as she realises how raw and _open_ she looks.

She’s a fucking mess.

Rachel’s torn through every layer of icy control to bury herself deep in Cassie’s heart, so subtly and gently she hasn’t even noticed until Rachel’s laid roots in every corner of her body and her mind and her life, and the only way to remove her is to tear every inch of herself apart.

(She’s pretty sure that’s what’s happening right now, because that’s what it _feels_ like.)

And she can’t do it. She can’t.

*

Cassie opens the door of her loft to see Rachel smiling seductively up at her.

“Hey,” she says, moistening her lips briefly.

“Hey,” Cassie breathes, willing herself not to sound as nervous as she feels. Her eyes catch sight of Rachel’s plunging neckline, black cotton tugging tantalisingly over the curve of Rachel’s breasts.

“Can I… come in?” Rachel asks, and Cassie realises she’s staring.

“I… yeah of course,” says Cassie, stepping back to let Rachel through the door. “Do you want some wine?”

“Mm, maybe later,” says Rachel, turning round to grab Cassie’s shirt and pull her softly towards her. Rachel kisses her deeply, firm hands sliding round Cassie’s waist to pull them closer together, and Cassie knows she’s missed her just as much as she’s missed Rachel.

Cassie’s fingers play with Rachel’s hair, and even as they kiss hungrily, they’re still so gentle. Rachel takes her time probing Cassie’s mouth with her tongue, hands coming up to cup her face like she’s trying to anchor herself, her thumb rubbing affectionately at Cassie’s cheek.

“God I missed you,” Cassie whispers in between kisses. Rachel moans, nipping lightly at her lip.

“I missed you too,” she says breathily. “Come on.” She takes Cassie’s hand and Cassie lets herself be led to her bedroom.

*

“Are you ok?” Rachel asks her later, looking up in concern from where she’s curled up against Cassie’s side. “You seem kind of quiet.”

“I’m just worn out,” Cassie tells her, with a wicked smirk, and Rachel smiles, batting her stomach affectionately.

“That’s never stopped you before,” she teases.

“I’m fine, Schwim,” Cassie reassures her, forcing back the stabbing pain in her chest. “It’s just been a long week.”

“Well, I hope I’ve gone some way to making it a satisfactory end,” Rachel says, tip toing her fingers across Cassie’s stomach.

“As always,” Cassie tells her, completely bypassing the innuendo in favour of kissing the top of Rachel’s head. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s see whether you manage to poison me or not.”

“It would be _entirely_ justified,” Rachel tells her, rolling off the bed and completely missing the flash of hurt in Cassie’s eyes.

Rachel tugs on her kimono – and it really does look a thousand times better on Rachel, hugging her tanned curves perfectly – and shoots Cassie a grin before heading out to her kitchen. Cassie lies back against the pillows, running a hand through her hair as she closes her eyes and tries to calm the buzzing in her mind.

She focuses on something concrete; like the faint tingling that’s still between her legs, or the sound of Rachel clattering about in the kitchen.

(Things that make her feel happy. Things that make her feel at home.

The panic rises in her chest again.)

“Cassie!” Rachel calls, her clear voice bringing Cassie back to reality. She gets up and throws on an oversized shirt before padding into the kitchen, where Rachel’s waiting on the couch, beaming at her as she holds out a glass of wine.

“Have you taken to raiding my wine cupboards now Schwim?” Cassie asks she takes it from her, sitting down.

“I know how to please a lady,” Rachel teases, and the look Cassie levels her makes her blush.

“Mm, don’t I know it,” she hums in a low voice, and Rachel smiles somehow both seductively and dotingly at the same time.

(It’s a look she’s mastered well.)

“I often think I’d make Santana proud,” Rachel tells her, sipping her wine.

“Yeah, so who is this elusive Santana?” Cassie asks, trying to fight back the images of some Latina lesbian wandering around Rachel in her underwear.

“Former closeted cheerleader turned Broadway-wannabe power lesbian,” Rachel replies without a hint of sarcasm, and Cassie raises an eyebrow, barely suppressing her laughter.

“God, Schwim, as if your life wasn’t a caricature of itself enough.”

“Hey!” Rachel says, batting her on the arm. “She’s a wonderful friend, even if she does steal all of the hot water at 7am and appears to be working her way through New York’s lesbian scene in the room next door… loudly.”

“So, what, did you guys get it on in high school when you weren’t busy being eaten alive by the Unincredible Hulk?” Cassie asks dryly, smirking into her wine.

“No!” Rachel exclaims, looking scandalised.

(Cassie can’t help the twinge of relief.)

“No, we didn’t-! I mean, Santana is gorgeous, obviously,” Rachel concedes, “But we’ve never, I mean I never really thought… No, we haven’t, ok.”

She so clearly had a crush on this girl that Cassie just doesn’t know what to say. Instead, she opts for taking another sip of her wine, trying to repress the plans springing up in her mind of how she could stake an open claim on Rachel.

(They all basically involve the one thing she’s terrified of, so…)

“So are you excited to go back to Ohio?” Cassie asks, mostly to break the slightly awkward tension that’s suddenly appeared.

“Yeah, I mean, I haven’t seen my dads or Quinn or Finn in ages, so…” Rachel shrugs, but Cassie’s emotions are clearly playing right across her face because Rachel kind of freezes and the tension in the air only grows.

“Are you going to see him?” Cassie asks in possibly the worst attempt at casual she’s ever made.

“Yeah, we’re singing together,” Rachel tells her, with a slightly defiant edge to her voice. “Mr. Schue asked us to.”

Cassie scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“Cassie, you’ve got to stop getting so jealous, OK! Santana’s right-“

“Wait, so you’ve been talking to your little friends about me?” asks Cassie snarkily, affronted.

“She was just asking about my life! And you’re a _part_ of that,” Rachel tells her.

“That’s funny, because I’m pretty sure I’ve seen more of my neighbours in the past two weeks than I have of you.”

“You know what, I can’t deal with you when you’re like this,” says Rachel angrily, grabbing her bag and getting up.

“Like _what_?!” Cassie demands in disbelief.

“Jealous! Possessive!” Rachel shouts, with wild gestures. “And maybe I thought that was cute in high school, but now it’s just scary, okay Cassie. You’re _scaring_ me _._ ”

Cassie sits in absolute shock. Rachel’s eyes are flashing and Cassie feels her mouth go dry as she realises her paranoid fears are coming to life.

 “You know what,” Rachel says more calmly, “I’m just gonna go home and see my family and friends, and leave you to calm down, and I’ll see you when I get back.”

The door slams shut and Cassie squeezes her eyes shut to fight back the tears of humiliation and anger and fear trying to slide down her cheeks. When she opens them again the first thing she sees is the half-full bottle of wine sitting opposite her.

(She finishes that, and another, and passes out on her sofa some time before midnight.)

*

Cassie wakes up the next day feeling like death warmed up, but she cannot find an ounce of energy in her to care. It’s easier just to be numb than face the entire emotional spectrum constantly being thrown at her. She’s just too goddamn _tired_.

She drags herself out of bed and into the bath sometime around mid-afternoon, and lies staring blankly at the white tiles until the bubbles slowly disappear and the water turns cold.

_“You’re scaring me.”_

Cassie yanks the plug out of the drain and grabs a towel, running it through her hair as she walks back to her bedroom, dripping all over her wooden floor. She’s just about to collapse back onto her bed when she notices the flashing light on her phone.

One missed call: Schwimmer.

 _Shit_.

Her heart hammers in her chest and she runs a hand anxiously through her matted mane as she calls Rachel back. This is it, this must be it.

“Hello?” says an unfamiliar voice.

“Er, hello, I’m looking for Rachel.” Cassie frowns slightly, checking the caller ID, but yeah, definitely Schwimmer.

“Oh, sorry, she’s disappeared. I’m just watching her stuff.”

“Is she okay? Do you know where she is?”

“I saw her sneak out with Finn, so yeah, she’s probably ok,” laughs the girl.

Cassie feels the bile forcing itself up her throat as her stomach clenches.

“Thanks,” she croaks, and lets the phone slip from her hand.

She can’t breathe. _She actually can’t breathe_. She just sits down slowly on the edge of her bed, frozen except for the wheezing coming from her chest.

This can’t be happening. This _can’t_. Her world feels like it’s simultaneously frozen in time and crumbling in on itself, and god she just wants to _scream_.

So she does. She screams and screams, ripping her Rachel-scented sheets from the bed, hurling her perfume bottles across the room and feeling her life smash to pieces along with the glass. Her screams turns into sobs as she runs her hands madly through her hair, storming out of her room except there’s nowhere for her to go. She paces her flat, wailing, almost bent over double as the force of the pain hits her. She has to make it go away. She _has to_. Then almost as she thinks it, she freezes. Her sobs stop, and a rush of cold air spreads through her body.

She needs to lash out at something, someone.

Cassie hurries back to her bedroom, wiping tears angrily from her cheeks and tugging off her clothes as she goes, hurling them across the floor. She finds the shortest, tightest black dress she owns, throws on some eyeliner and red lipstick in about five minutes, and barely even glancing in the mirror she tugs on her heels, grabs her purse and storms out the house to find a cab.

Two hours later and half a bottle of vodka later, she lets herself be dragged back to some guy’s flat. She doesn’t regret it until he pushes her over the edge and all she can see is Rachel.

*

She wakes up in her own flat, sometime in the early evening, to the sound of someone hammering at her front door. Whoever they are can fuck off, because she feels like absolute _hell_.

“Cassie!”

No. No, no, _no._

“Cassie, it’s me! Let me in!”

She burrows further under her covers, but the banging doesn’t stop. And suddenly she just wants to yell in Rachel’s face exactly where to go, so she yanks back her covers and storms through her flat, ripping the door open.

“What the _fuck_ do you want?!” she demands, and Rachel actually takes a step back at the force of her anger. She stares, her eyes running up and down Cassie’s body, and it’s only then Cassie realises she’s standing in some very stained, ripped underwear.

“Oh my god,” Rachel says quietly. “Cassie what _happened_?”

“That’s none of your fucking business,” she snaps.

“Cassie, what-“

“Do you think I don’t know about you _fucking_ your ex-boyfriend?!”

“Oh my _god_!” Rachel yells in exasperation, tearing her hands through her hair. “How many times do I have to tell you?! There’s _nothing_ going in between us!”

“Schwimmer, I _phoned_ you okay, and your little friend gave me quite the picture,” Cassie tells her.

“What are you talking about?” Rachel asks her, and Cassie scoffs. She can’t believe she’s such a fucking coward.

“She _saw you_ , with your ex-boyfriend, sneaking off together,” Cassie says angrily.

“Cassie we weren’t sneaking off, ok! I lost my phone and I was trying to call you because I was _upset_. I couldn’t stop thinking about your argument, and then Finn tried to get me to tell him what was wrong, but I just wanted you!”

Rachel’s voice cracks as she fights back tears, and cold dread runs through Cassie’s body.

“Did you honestly believe I’d do that?” she asks quietly, looking heartbroken. Cassie can’t look at her, can’t say anything as the full reality of her actions starts to register. She feels Rachel’s eyes raking over her body, and hears the hitch in her breath at what she _knows_ is a hickey that Rachel definitely didn’t leave on her neck.

“Did you… did you sleep with someone?” Rachel asks, and she doesn’t even sound hurt, she just sounds _confused_ ; like she honestly, truly can’t comprehend the idea that Cassie would betray her like that.

It’s that blind faith in her goodness which forces Cassie to meet Rachel’s eyes; when she does, Rachel’s hand comes up to her mouth in a sob, and she starts shaking her head desperately.

“Rachel,” Cassie croaks, moving towards her, but Rachel backs away. She’s still shaking, looking so heartbroken and uncomprehending that Cassie’s heart actually breaks in two.

“I can’t believe you!” Rachel cries. “You told me… you told you were _mine_!”

“Rachel, I’m so sorry,” Cassie sobs, but it’s useless, and she knows it. She knows she’s never deserved Rachel, not even for a second, and this is exactly why. Rachel, looking entirely broken in two, turns from her and runs; and Cassie lets her.

Then she leans against the door doubled over, gasping for breath as she sobs. She slides down against the wood, falling limp onto the floor, and one single thought cuts through her like a blade.

 _She loves her_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really, really hard to write. I've been dragging it out a few hundred words at a time for over two weeks, and although it's no where near perfect, I literally can't write anymore. So, rest assured, I feel your pain.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She can’t help watching her, after that, checking to see if Cassie’s ok, waiting for her to slip up and meet Rachel’s eyes, just briefly. She finds herself counting the moments when Cassie brushes a whisper too close, or lets their gazes slide past each other, or sometimes, just sometimes she watches Rachel work, unnoticed from the corner._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So maybe taking a writing hiatus after the ending of the last chapter was a bit cruel in hindsight. My bad.
> 
> Thanks to the usual angels for their encouragement when I felt like this chapter would literally never end, and for the never ending support from my lovely reviewers. It makes my day seeing people love this story as much as I do :)
> 
> (I'm proof-reading this for the final time exhausted so apologies for any errors, they'll get fixed when I re-read it later on, but I wanted to get this chapter out.)

Rachel can barely see for tears, but she doesn’t stop running until she’s two blocks away. She collapses, panting in a side street, and leans against the wall as sobs rack her body. Her head tips back against the bricks as she futilely tries to blink back tears, and wonders how anything could ever hurt this much.

(She thought she’d seen the worst of heartbreak, being dragged away from Finn that day on the train, but god that didn’t even come _close_ to how she feels right now.)

Her entire world feels like it’s fallen apart, and she’s threatening to go with it. She desperately needs someone to hold her up just so she doesn’t completely collapse.

Rachel fumbles in her bag for her phone, and hits speed dial. Kurt answers on the third ring.

“Kurt, I need you,” she cries.

He doesn’t ask why, just where. Rachel says a silent thank you for how blessed she is with her best friends. He pulls up in a taxi ten minutes later, and Rachel’s sobs escalate all over again when she realises he’s probably forgone a week’s food budget just to reach her quickly.

“Rachel, oh god, come here,” Kurt says, holding out his arms. Rachel lets herself fall into them, crying freely into his shoulder. “Ssh, it’s ok,” he tells her, rubbing his hand soothingly against her back. “It’s gonna be ok.”

Rachel can’t believe that for a moment. All she knows is that she never wants to see Cassie again.

*

New Year’s Day is basically one of the most magical and most terrifying days of her entire life.

She wakes up halfway through the night terrified Cassie’s going to chuck her out; but then she gets roused from sleep mid-morning by a horny Cassie and she’s so happy she completely forgets this isn’t _permanent_.

Cassie brutally reminds her a few hours later, and she feels ridiculous for the split-second she’d seen herself in the mirror wearing Cassie’s clothes and allowed herself to imagine they were actually _together_.

(She doesn’t even know if that’s something she wants, not really. She’s always craved comfort and stability amongst her drama, but a relationship with Cassie seems like cosying up to a particularly vicious iceberg.)

But still, it _hurts_ , the idea that Cassie thinks she’d prefer any guy over this.

(She knows, already, that there’s no one else who could make her feel the way she does right now, and that in and out of itself terrifies her.)

She’s learning pretty quickly about the way to appease Cassie; mostly, accepting she’d rather be forced to watch her own Youtube hit on repeat than admit to feeling any emotion.

(Which is ridiculous, because Cassie is one of the most emotional people Rachel knows.)

She’s willing to compromise a lot, though, to keep playing this addicting, fascinating game; and if she recognises the danger signs, she ignores them, because the rush she gets when Cassie smoulders at her across the loft and beckons her to the floor is only second to being on stage.

Rachel still can’t believe Cassie’s quite letting her take what she wants, and maybe that’s half of what she loves. The girl Cassie lets her be in this room is better than any role she’d ever dreamed of.

*

Kurt basically carries her home on the Subway, letting her sniffle into his $400 jacket with barely a wince. When they finally collapse into their apartment, Santana looks up from the sofa to see Rachel hobbling in, Kurt’s arm round her waist, and jumps up in alarm.

“What’s happened, oh my god!” she says, running to help Rachel. “Are you hurt? What is it?” 

Rachel just shakes her head, trying in vain to push Santana away, and moves towards her bedroom.

“I picked her up from Soho,” Kurt tells Santana in a low voice, and Santana’s expression droops in heartbroken understanding then hardens into cold fury in a split second.

“Where is that bitch, I will _cut_ her,” Santana snarls, storming towards the door.

“Santana!” Kurt and Rachel shout in unison, Kurt lunging back to grab Santana’s arm. Rachel’s fragile grip on control tears completely at Santana’s outburst, and – inexplicably – the thought of anyone else hurting Cassie right now, and she bursts into tears, before clamping a hand over her mouth and running into the bathroom. She slams the door shut behind her and leans against it, wheezing into her hands as she weeps.

Her world feels like it’s crashing in on itself as her solid foundation of reality disappears, and this strange new world where Cassie _slept with someone else_ forces itself into place. The only tenuous link to her sanity she has is the steady rhythm of sobs racking her chest. She focuses on the tears sliding unheeded down her cheeks and the rise and fall of her ribcage, as she wonders desperately how this could possibly be happening.

 _It was never supposed to hurt like this_.

When she emerges, two hours later, her eyes are red and swollen but she’s otherwise composed. She’s cried so many tears she just feels empty, and she likes that. No emotion left to feel heartbroken.

She makes her way silently to her bedroom, trying to ignore the concerned looks Santana and Kurt are throwing her from the sofa. She doesn’t want to face their sympathy when she knows they’ve been waiting for this all along. All she wants to do is burrow underneath her covers and disappear from the world all together.

*

Somehow during their New Years’ _idylle_ Rachel’d forgotten to tell Cassie she wasn’t _actually_ dropping her class, and she almost considers going back to her loft to let her know. But the thought of how clingy that would appear makes her cringe, and besides – surprise seems like her best weapon in keeping Cassie’s interest, right now.

(She tries not to think about who else Cassie’s probably sleeping with over the holiday.)

Rachel can’t resist winding up Cassie just a little more, and the risk of getting ripped a new one in the middle of class is _definitely_ worth it for Cassie’s expression when she swans into the dance studio nearly seven minutes late, in the shortest pair of dance shorts she could find in New York.

(Apparently she’s starting to learn exactly what makes Cassie tick, though, and she tries not to be too smug when Cassie’s throwing her against the piano.)

Despite nearly getting caught, Cassie’s still apparently prepared to risk a _second_ career to grind against her in expensive salsa clubs. Maybe Rachel’s finally sexy enough for Cassie; or maybe it’s something to do with the fiery jealously flaring in Cassie’s eyes when Rachel catches the eye of some male dancers.

She’s pretty sure Cassie’s stubbornly convincing herself this is just sex, but Rachel’s happy to go along with that for now.

*

Kurt wakes her up the next day with a steaming mug of chamomile tea.

“For your voice,” he says, with a sad smile, and Rachel has to close her eyes for a moment to fight back a fresh onslaught of tears. She sits up slightly, and accepts the mug from Kurt, muttering a quiet ‘thank you’.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” Kurt says, holding his hands up in surrender, “But… I’m here if you need me. As is Santana,” he adds.

“I just…” says Rachel shakily. “I feel so _humiliated_. I feel so worthless. How could she do that to me?”

“Whatever it is, you don’t deserve it,” Kurt says softly, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“But I don’t even understand why she _did_ it,” Rachel tells him, her voice cracking. “I thought we were… I really thought we had… I mean why would she do that?” Rachel asks Kurt desperately, her eyes brimming.

“Because she’s a really messed up person, Rachel,” Kurt says sadly. “And I know you don’t want to hear it, but there’s no way this could ever have ended well.”

“But I don’t see why not!” Rachel insists furiously. “I don’t see why she couldn’t have just trusted me! I don’t see why she had to ruin _everything_ …”

Kurt lets Rachel cry, stroking her knee gently.

“I can’t go to class today,” she cries, “I can’t face her.”

“Rachel that’s fine. Just take the day off, stay here, Santana will make you some of her special healing soup.”

Rachel snorts, wiping her eyes with her blanket.

“God, I’m such a mess,” she says, and suddenly an image of Cassie passed out on the floor of her loft flashes through her mind, and her heart _burns_.

*

Rachel’s always been terrible at keeping secrets, but something about hiding an illicit affair from her best friend and roommate makes the whole thing seem more sordid than exciting.

(Also: she does _not_ clap like a seal.)

Kurt is, predictably, horrified.

“Rachel are you _serious_?!” nearly spraying his coffee everywhere. “You’re- _Cassie July_? But she _hates_ you!”

“Well, I guess she doesn’t hate me that much,” says Rachel carefully, trying to repress memories of exactly how much Cassie does _not_ hate her, because this really isn’t the time.

“No, but- you could lose everything,” Kurt tells her insistently, putting his cup down. “Ok this is a _bad_ idea. What are you going to do when people find out?!”

“Kurt, no one’s going to find out,” Rachel assures him, but honestly, she doesn’t even believe herself.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” Kurt snaps, and Rachel glares.

“Look, I’m not asking for your _approval_ -“

“Approval?! Rachel you’re getting emotionally involved with a woman who has _tortured_ you for the past four months!” Kurt says incredulously.

Rachel’s silent for a long moment, biting her lip.

“Kurt I know…” she says eventually. “I know what she was like then. But I know what she’s like now, and I… She’s making me really happy.”

“Oh my god,” Kurt replies, putting his head in his hands, before getting up. “I can’t listen to this,” he says, walking away.

Despite Kurt’s open objections, Rachel spends more and more time with Cassie. She ignores Kurt’s disapproving looks and bitchy jibes in favour of running along on one of Cassie’s adventures. And maybe Kurt is right about the danger she’s putting her reputation in; but he’s not right about how Cassie acts towards her.

Rachel’s never been very good at bonding with people; it always seems so forced on her part, and reluctant on others’. Somehow she finds herself becoming closer to Cassie without even _trying_. She doesn’t expect or anticipate it to happen, she just looks across Cassie’s sofa one day and realises the person she’s sharing most of her life with now is sitting opposite her.

Cassie isn’t nearly as open with her words, but she is with her body, and Rachel knows the way Cassie seeks comfort in her late at night means every bit as much.

(Cassie _trusts_ her, and that’s more than enough to let Rachel trust her far too much in return.)

It takes her completely by surprise when Cassie proves Kurt right and humiliates her in the middle of class. Kurt, to his credit, barely whispers _I told you so_ and lets her cry into his shoulder for most of the evening, before insisting she confront Cassie.

“This is about self-respect, ok Rachel. You can’t let her take that from you,” he tells her.

“But she’s still my _teacher_. I can’t yell at her, what if she chucks me out?”

“She won’t. She likes you too much.”

The smile tugging at Kurt’s lips is grim; but apparently he’s right.

*

Santana seems to be fighting back seething rage, and it would be comical if it wasn’t for the fact Rachel feels like she’s been gutted.

“Ok, all I want to know is - did she hit you? Did she _physically_ harm you?” Santana asks as she places a bowl of soup on the coffee table in front of Rachel.

“No, Santana…” Rachel answers warily.

“Good,” Santana says shortly, curling up next to her on the sofa.

“Cassie would never…” Rachel begins, but she trails off as she wonders, and _really_ wonders; all the times she’s seen Cassie scream at her students, all the times Cassie’s abused her – and yeah, she’s toned it down a _lot_ in the last few months.

(And that’s just another thing that makes Rachel’s hurt clench in agony; how could Cassie care so much about her and then…)

She’s never actually _seen_ Cassie lose control, Youtube aside, but she has a pretty good idea of how destructive she is when she’s hurt.

Rachel takes a shaky breath.

“I feel like I don’t even know her anymore,” she confesses.

“Rach… did you really know her to start with?” Santana asks slowly.

“Yes!” Rachel insists desperately. “All of the things she shared…” She tries to pick out a single rational thought but she feels like every single one of her memories is in the process of being re-written, what she’d previously known to be real and solid now being glazed over with the same fear:

_Did Cassie ever even care at all?_

Rachel’s mind freezes instinctively. She can’t deal with that. She can’t deal with any of this.

 “I just don’t… I just don’t ever want to see her again.”

“You could drop her class?” Santana suggests, but Rachel shakes her head.

“I need it. And even if I didn’t… I don’t want to give her the satisfaction,” Rachel says determinedly.

“Well then we’re gonna have to find a way for you to deal with her,” Santana says firmly, shrugging slightly as if it really is that simple.

“Yeah,” says Rachel, with a slight tremor. “Yeah.”

They finish their soup in silence. It’s not until Santana’s collecting their bowls that she turns round, and asks gently:

“Did she sleep with someone else?”

Rachel freezes, feeling for a moment like her stomach is forcing its way up her throat. She can’t look at Santana; she can’t face the sympathy, and she can’t face the _I told you so_ that Santana isn’t cruel enough to let slip.

“Yes. She slept with someone else.”

*

Rachel can pretty much pinpoint the moment it becomes, irrevocably, more than just sex.

When she hears some of her classmates discussing the musical in her Theatre Workshop, she knows she has to see it. Cassie’s the first person she thinks to invite, because she’s the first person she usually thinks of these days. Rachel almost shakes her head at herself, and imagines Cassie laughing in her face when she suggests it. Which is so frustrating, because she’s _sure_ Cassie would like it; and at the back of her mind she’s always had some ridiculous fantasy about them sitting in the front row of a theatre together…

Maybe if she didn’t actually _tell_ Cassie….

She doesn’t buy front row seats, because she’s pretty sure Cassie would actually walk out of the theatre. But she manages to find a way to persuade Cassie into relinquishing control for an evening, and then suddenly they’re in the theatre and Cassie’s clutching Rachel’s hand like a lifeline and she _acts like her life depends on it_ because she knows Cassie will run a mile the moment Rachel acknowledges her weakness.

(And it scares her, slightly, how much of Cassie she’s suddenly seeing open and raw.

When Cassie has a near _breakdown_ in the middle of the show, for a split-second she genuinely considers running as far as she can because it’s just _too much_.)

In the end, though, she knows more than anything what it’s like to need silent comfort in your worst moments, and when Cassie pulls her closer as she’s drifting off to sleep, she thanks every star she knows that she didn’t leave her.

Something shifts that night, and if it scares her she knows it _terrifies_ Cassie. She tries, and fails, not to fret all week when Cassie – predictably – freezes her out. But she knows better than to hammer at her loft door, and she’s rewarded for it a week later when Cassie actually asks her to _stay_. She spends the whole day floating on air, and looks across the sofa at a laughing Cassie and realises she’s falling head over heels in love with this woman.

*

Rachel’s shaking as she makes her way to Dance 101.

(Santana had tried to insist on sneaking into NYADA with her, but even if Rachel hadn’t been scared of getting into trouble, the thought of Cassie’s face when Rachel walked in with a _bodyguard_ makes her stomach drop.)

The moment she enters the corridors that are Cassie’s domain she’s terrified, her heart jumping at every swish of blonde. Predictably, the dance hall is empty save for the few early students warming up. She gets changed and joins them at the barre, trying to focus on her exercises.

Rachel catches sight of herself in Cassie’s long mirrors; make-up and hair perfect, completely under control, her spine straight and her hips turned out.

She lifts her chin.

She can do this.

She flinches when she hears the sound of loud footsteps approaching the dance studio, except they’re longer and softer than usual; her determination to ignore Cassie cracks just as a dark figure appears in the doorway, and she looks up to see Brody.

Her heart clenches.

“All right Freshmen,” he says, striding into the centre of the room. “Cassie’s been injured so she’s out for at least of the rest of the week.”

A series of gasps erupts around the room but Rachel’s barely listening. A cold horror is seeping through her body because oh _god_ …

Terrifying images of Cassie lying bleeding on her floor flash through Rachel’s mind, one leg bent crookedly out behind her, empty vodka bottles scattered around. She should have known;  _this is all her fault._

“Ok, everyone,” Brody says, trying to calm the gossiping that’s erupted.

“Wait,” Rachel interrupts, rushing forward. “What’s happened? Is she ok?” she asks in a low, urgent voice. Brody looks at her in surprise, and then his eyes narrow slightly in suspicion.

“She’s fine, she’s just broken her wrist,” he tells her, and Rachel nearly collapses in relief. “I don’t mean to be rude but, why are you so concerned, Rachel?”

Rachel’s heart hammers, and for the first time she notices the rest of her classmates watching her intently.

“Nothing, I just…” Rachel’s mind goes blank. “Nothing.”

She hurries back to the barre, so embarrassed and relieved but _shit_ so scared that she barely pays attention to the rest of the lesson. She fumbles her way through Brody’s relatively easy exercises, and he pulls her aside after class.

“Listen, Rachel, I don’t know what’s up with you, but Cassie’s going to be fine,” he tells her. “She just slipped and snapped her wrist when she fell.”

Something in the way Brody lets her know so casually he’s more informed about Cassie’s wellbeing than she is hits her completely the wrong way.

“I didn’t realise you and Cassie were so _close_ again,” she snaps, her lip curling in disgust.

“What?” replies Brody, genuinely dumb-founded. “Rachel, there’s _nothing_ going on between me and Cassie, ok!” he laughs. “I mean, rumour has it…” he pauses, looking around slightly nervous. “People have been talking. You know, about Cassie and… you.”

“What?” whispers Rachel shortly, cold dread freezing inside her like ice.

“Apparently someone saw you two together outside a bar, a few weeks back,” Brody tells her quietly. “And it’s not a secret how much attention Cassie gives you in class. People have noticed, you know, that you’ve got _friendlier_.”

Rachel’s hurt hammers frantically in her chest and she honestly thinks she’s going to throw up right there. But she can’t do this; she can’t let Cassie ruin this one last thing for her.

“Then you can tell everyone that they’re _deluded_ ,” Rachel tells her fiercely, her eyes flashing. “Because the last person I would _ever_ have an affair with is Cassandra July.”

“I know!” Brody reassures her. “I mean you’re not… I know you’re not like that.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me, Brody,” Rachel says coldly, and she turns on her heel and walks from the room.

*

Rachel has not so much as _looked_ at Brody since the Winter Showcase, when any notion of dating him was entirely swept away by a gorgeous blonde with a smoulder that just made her insides _melt_ , but Cassie is still inexplicably jealous of him.

(Cassie gets jealous more easily than anyone Rachel’s ever met, including Finn, and most of the time it’s kind of cute and gives Rachel this exhilarating rush over seeing someone so flawless be so possessive over her.)

No matter how hard she tries, though, she can’t seem to convince Cassie she has _literally no interest in him_. Rachel is _Cassie’s_ , she has been since Cassie first took her hand and led her away to a life she could never previously have comprehended, and made her more happy than she thought was humanly possible. She wants more than anything to tell Cassie that, to sit her down and sing with everything she has about how much Cassie has _nothing_ to fear, because Rachel would honestly give her anything.

But nothing terrifies her so much anymore as the idea of Cassie leaving her, and so she does everything in her power to stop that from happening.

(And maybe she’s turning into someone she doesn’t really recognise in the process, but she doesn’t care as long as she has this woman she’s inexplicably fallen in love with still in her life.)

So she keeps her emotions as contained as possible and tries to quell her insecurities.

Except the cracks in Cassie’s own steely control are starting to show, and somehow that frightens her. She knows that Cassie’s fears are the only thing left keeping some semblance of safe distance between them, and that there’s nothing Rachel can do to stop herself from giving Cassie her all if she lets her.

“You’re so beautiful, Rachel,” Cassie whispers down at her, and Rachel nearly _weeps_.

*

Brody pretty much leaves Rachel alone for the rest of the week, which suits her just fine. If he notices how much of a nervous wreck she is, he doesn’t say anything more. They get their midterm marks back, and Rachel nearly falls over when she sees _A-_ at the top of her report. She shakes her head in disgust, and shoves the paper into her bag.

Fuck Cassie.

She spends every hour she’s not in class trying desperately to distract herself, but she’s just got so much time on her hands. She finds herself checking her messages for the first time in four days, but nothing; not from Cassie, anyway.

Rachel doesn’t know whether she’s distraught or relieved.

She’s a nervous wreck all weekend, to the point where Santana is near-constantly muttering darkly in Spanish about what is presumably Cassie’s imminent death. She lies awake most of Sunday night, only falling into a brief, fitful sleep dreaming of Cassie and Brody wrapped round each other in the dance studio.

Cassie keeps her class waiting for ten minutes, and Rachel’s visibly shaking by the time tell-tale footsteps announce her arrival. She doesn’t look up, not for a moment. Cassie’s voice rings out, agonisingly familiar, across the room, and is she imaging things or is it slightly deeper, slightly hoarser than usual?

“I hope everyone’s enjoyed their week’s holiday, but rest assured it will not be continuing after your pitiful excuse for midterm results. Listen up, people! We have only _eight weeks_ left until finals. Anyone who doesn’t make the grade will _not_ be allowed into my class next year! Alright, let’s go across the floor. We’ll start with some _jetés_. Partner up!”

Cassie moves past Rachel and her breath hitches. She allows herself to glance over at Cassie’s retreating form, and her heart aches as her eyes rake over familiar blonde hair pulled tightly into a ponytail, long limbs wrapped in black fabric. She bites her lip when she notices Cassie’s bandaged right hand.

Someone taps her on the shoulder and she’s shaken out of her reverie. She smiles at the boy offering to be her partner, and lets herself be led over to the corner of the studio. Her heart hammers as she prepares herself for the jump. She glances briefly over at Cassie who’s looking anywhere but Rachel.

“You ready?” the boy says, placing an arm on Rachel’s waist, and she nods. The boy counts and they leap forward, and for a second she catches Cassie’s eye. Her legs tremble, but the boy’s hands grip around her waist and she jumps instinctively. She can feel Cassie’s eyes boring into her and she forces every muscle in her body to its, willing her limbs into perfection, just _once_.

Then it’s over and she’s landed back on the floor.

“Nice one,” her partner tells her, and she smiles shakily up at him.

Cassie's already barking criticism at the next pair, and Rachel feels weak with relief.

*

Rachel’s pretty much dancing on air after Cassie’s admission, but then mid-terms roll around, and she’s caught between her almost-relationship and her exams.

(She’s always been a straight-A student, but it’s just impossible to focus endlessly in the library when she knows Cassie’s waiting at home, _needing_ her.)

“Rachel, I don’t get it,” Kurt says in exasperation one morning, when Rachel arrives back from Cassie’s, exhausted. “A year ago you were all animal jumpers and _I want to make it to New York_ and now you’re risking your place at a school you _stalked_ the head of to get into so you can run around flashing your butt cheeks to try and hang onto the slutty Barbie you think you’re in love with.”

“You know what, Kurt,” Rachel tells him angrily, snatching her bag. “It’s called growing up, and moving on. I’m sorry that you’re still hung up on Blaine, _I am_ , but you’re not going to ruin this for me.”

She storms off to get changed, then heads back out to study, ignoring Kurt.  She’s barely slept, but she wouldn’t compromise anything about her life to spend less time with the woman she _loves_.

Then suddenly, Cassie freezes.

 Rachel can’t pinpoint the words or the actions exactly, but she knows Cassie’s pulling a huge mask over the torrent of emotions she’s just let loose, and Rachel’s _terrified._

*

Rachel becomes accustomed to ignoring Cassie pretty easily, and Cassie apparently does the same right back. It almost feels like a _game_ , winning or losing depending on how much you can mask your feelings.

(Rachel always used to be so hopeless at keeping her emotions tucked away, but she’s spent nine months studying the master, now.)

Her nerves disappear rapidly to be replaced by anger, and after one exhausting lesson, she cracks.

Her footwork is everywhere, and she keeps messing up the same move again and again. Cassie’s glowering at her from across the dance hall, which is _not_ helping. At one point Rachel actually topples over and she snaps her head up to glare at Cassie as she wanders past, because maybe she should goddamn _teach_.

She hangs behind at the end of class until the hall is empty, then she storms up to Cassie.

“I don’t care what your problem is with me, but you still have a job to do,” Rachel tells her furiously. Cassie crosses her arms against her body, and stands impassively, as if she’s been waiting for Rachel’s outburst for a while.

“You’re always going on about self-control and ignoring your emotions but this is _ridiculous_. Ok, because you _are_ letting your emotions get in the way of your job, because you’re not doing _anything_ to help me!” Cassie’s expression doesn’t change, and somehow it makes Rachel even more angry. “And you know what it’s _pathetic_ , ok. You’re _pathetic_. Drinking yourself into oblivion and fucking up your hand because you can’t live with yourself for screwing over the one person who actually _loved_ you!”

Tears are blurring Rachel’s vision by now, but she doesn’t miss the crushing, heartbroken expression that flits across Cassie’s face, before she turns on her heel and walks from the room.

Rachel arrives home a mess.

“I think I really went too far,” Rachel sobs, and then she collapses into Kurt’s arms.

*

In the midst of Cassie's emotional freeze, Rachel turns to Kurt for advice.

“How am I supposed to know what she’s thinking?!” Kurt demands through a plate of noodles. “Even I can’t see into the heart and mind of the ice queen.”

“Kurt,” snaps Rachel, glaring at him. “Look, I’m _terrified_ , ok,” she admits, “I feel like she’s just going to lose it any second, and I don’t know what to do.”

Kurt gives her a long, hard look.

“Give her space,” he tells her. “For your own sake.”

*

Santana gives Rachel a long list of reasons why Cassie had Rachel’s outburst coming, and Rachel thinks maybe she’s right. But that doesn’t ease the guilt from her words; it doesn’t ease the guilt she has over walking away from Cassie.

 She doesn’t feel _regret it_ exactly, it’s just...

Cassie looks more and more of a mess every time Rachel sees her. She’s got such a steely control over her emotions it’s basically unnoticeable to everyone else, but Rachel can see the lifelessness in Cassie’s dancing, the maniacal glint in her eye and the slight tremor in her hands like she’s feeling so much underneath the surface it’s threatening to burst.

It hurts. Rachel’s anger doesn’t disappear, but it has to fight with the growing ache in her chest that makes her falter when she passes Cassie on her way out, leaning over the piano _exhausted_. Cassie glances up, just for a moment, and Rachel catches a glimpse of the self-loathing and guilt and – just for a second – hope in her eyes. Then she looks away as if Rachel was never there, and Rachel carries on walking.

She can’t help watching her, after that, checking to see if Cassie’s ok, waiting for her to slip up and meet Rachel’s eyes, just briefly. She finds herself counting the moments when Cassie brushes a whisper too close, or lets their gazes slide past each other, or sometimes, just sometimes she watches Rachel work, unnoticed from the corner.

Rachel hears the other students gossiping, one day, just before class.

“She looks like a _zombie_ ,” whispers the girl next to her. “I don’t know if she’s having some mid-life crisis or something, but the other day Zack nearly _dropped_ me, and she didn’t say a word.”

“Maybe somebody _died_ ,” says one boy dramatically.

“Or maybe somebody finally broke her icey heart,” chuckles another girl, and they all giggle conspiratorially.

Rachel whips round.

“Maybe you should _shut your mouth_ ,” she snaps, heart racing. The entire group goes silent, and Rachel looks over to see Cassie stalking into the room.

“Don’t stop gossiping on my account,” she drawls, not even looking at Rachel.

Rachel glances over at the other students, who are all wearing identical, terrified expressions.

Cassie doesn’t look at her for the rest of the lesson, but Rachel catches her eyes shining for just a second, and she barely maintains her own composure until she’s outside.

By the time she’s home, her make-up’s streaming down her face, and Santana drops the magazine she’s holding when she sees her.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?!” she asks in alarm.

“It’s Cassie,” Rachel says, flopping down next to her.

“What happened?”

“I just… I really miss her,” Rachel says quietly, sniffing.

“Have you spoken to her at all?” Santana asks. Rachel shakes her head.

“No. Not since I yelled at her about how pathetic she is,” Rachel adds with a disdainful laugh. “I just want to know how she is, you know?”

“Yeah,” replies Santana sadly, and when Rachel lets their gazes meet she knows how achingly Santana can empathise with her.

“Santana, I want to be with her,” she tells her shakily, eyes shining. “That’s what I want, and I….” Rachel breaks off, biting her lip as she tries to compose herself. “People always say you should marry your best friend, but she’s not that, she’s not even close,” Rachel cries.

“Rach, no one’s talking about marriage,” Santana says gently.

“But that’s how I feel!” Rachel screams, and Santana visibly flinches. “It’s not just some… taudry affair, not anymore,” Rachel continues more calmly. “I don’t think it has been for a long time. It’s _all-consuming_ , how I feel about her. And I want, I want more than _anything_ to suddenly fall into this perfect, harmonious relationship with her; I want to wake up in the morning and see her smiling at me and _know_ that she’s not going to hurt me at all, and that anyone who does… I can go to her and she’ll make it all better.”

Rachel crumples, leaning into Santana as sobs.

“Ssh, baby, it’s gonna be ok,” Santana says soothingly as she rubs her back, and _god_ , why could it have not been _this_ temperamental, fiery, beautiful woman she fell for?

When her sobs eventually turn into sniffles, Santana tucks her messy hair behind her ears, and says gently, but firmly, “OK, I’m going to tuck you into bed and make you a pop tart and some hot chocolate, and then I’m going to put on Trouty’s acoustic playlist he made for you, and you’re going to go to sleep. And then tomorrow, we’re going to sit down and figure out how to handle this. But right now you’re just going to mess everything up.”

Rachel nods, and lets Santana basically carry her into bed, and sit stroking her hair as she coaxes the hot chocolate down her aching throat.

*

In the midst of all the madness, _Santana_ moves in.

“Come on, it’ll be like Two and Half Gays,” Santana jokes, and Rachel freezes.

“What?” Santana asks, looking between her and Kurt’s stricken faces. “What did I say?”

“Rachel’s having some crazy affair with her dance teacher, Cassie July,” Kurt says in dramatic flourish. “What?! Someone’s gotta tell her,” he adds, at Rachel’s horrified expression.

“Oh my _god_ ,” laughs Santana, putting down her bag to give Rachel a round of applause. “You finally took my advice. Well done, Berry.”

“Wait, you _knew_?!” Kurt demands.

“Yeah, of course,” Santana shrugs, as if no hint of lady drama could happen without her knowledge.

(Rachel thinks this is probably correct.)

*

She honestly doesn’t know what she’d have done if she didn’t have Santana.

(She was ready to murder her when she first “moved in”, but right now she’d sacrifice all her Barbra posters just to keep her at her side.)

“I know it’s crazy,” Rachel says, and Santana rolls her eyes so hard it must hurt.

“Berry, you’ve been having some illicit affair with the infamous Broadway train-wreck who is your _professor_ , who not only has a reputation for terrorising you but has achieved drama-queen psycho levels that eclipse even your own crack-den scheming antics, and you’re _now_ telling me you want to risk both her career and your own to try and forge some kind of sane relationship with her.”

Rachel bites her lip.

“I’d fucking hope you know it’s crazy, _Dios Mio_.”

“So you don’t think I should be with her?” Rachel says hesitantly, willing her herself not to crumble.

“Do you love her?” Santana asks, and the question cuts through Rachel like a knife. Part of her was still waiting for Santana to dismiss her feelings as a ridiculous, drama-fuelled crush, but suddenly everything feels so _real_.

“Yes,” says Rachel quietly, nodding. “I really do.”

“You know what I think?” says Santana, leaning back. “I don’t think she’s ready to be with you. And I don’t think _you’re_ ready to be with _her_.”

“But I am!” Rachel insists, and Santana shakes her head.

“Rachel, look at the way you’re living your life, ok!” Santana tells her incredulously. “You have sacrificed so much, for this _incredibly_ unhealthy relationship. I have literally seen you more in the past week than I have the rest of the term. I mean, do you even study anymore? What happened to Rachel Barbra Berry, taking Broadway by storm?” Santana asks her. “Because right now, Cassie could say, ‘Drop everything and come with me’ and you _would_ ok! You would, and the Rachel I know would kick you for it. Repeatedly. And then she’d burn all your Streisand crap.”

Rachel laughs, wiping at her tears.

“I don’t know how this happened,” she tells Santana tearfully. “But I don’t know what to do!”

“Stop trying to fix Cassie,” Santana says more softly. “She _has_ to do that herself.”

“So you’re saying I should wait for her?” Rachel asks, frowning.

“No, I think you should stop living your life focused on her, ok,” Santana says matter-of-factly.  “Do what you came to New York to do. Become a star.”

*

Santana’s bemusement at Rachel ‘finally batting for the better team’ lasts exactly how long it takes for her to notice the turn Rachel’s relationship with Cassie has taken.

“ _Dios Mio_ , do you spend _any_ time without that lady?!”

“Rachel, I swear that’s like, the third time she’s called you today.”

“Also, when did you start dressing like some Chicago-meets-Sex-In-The-City harlet _wannabe_?”

Rachel furiously defends Cassie, because she _knows_ Cassie can be a little _intense_ , ok, but so can she, and honestly it’s a miracle Cassie’s willing to put up with her own insecurities.

And in the end, Rachel doesn’t believe anyone understands Cassie quite like she does.

*

The more she throws herself into her work, the more Rachel realises how true Santana’s words were. She dashes off after classes to rehearsal rooms to sing, finds a studio somewhere in Brooklyn to dance, and spends every other spare moment studying. Kurt joins her, sometimes, finding her mid-evening with a fresh coffee.

“Urgh, I love you,” Rachel mumbles in between sips, scanning her Writing Workshop notes.

“I know,” says Kurt with a smile. She doesn’t miss the slight relief in his eyes that’s appeared recently.

She feels like she’s catching up with an old friend, and there are moments when she just wants to _kick_ herself for being so stupid.

Cassie’s still there, constantly; when she’s checking her reflection in the morning, when she’s alone with her thoughts on the Subway, when she’s singing, when she’s _dancing_.

(She tries not to cry when she imagines Cassie’s firm hands carefully position her limbs, brushing her skin as they move.)

It’s like being chased by a ghost, whispering in her ear; criticising her appearance, her form, her talent. She’s applying her make-up in the mirror and suddenly she’s back in October, trying desperately to prove to Cassie how sexy she was, how she had what it takes to be a star.

(She squeezes her eyes shut to stop the tears.)

Rachel finally cracks, one night, when she, Santana and Kurt are at Callbacks. She’s standing on her own, watching Kurt and Santana slaughter _Popular_ , when a handsome blonde places his beer on the table in front of her.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” he drawls, and Rachel laughs, eyes brushing over his toned body up to his confident, smirking face. She blushes.

“Does that work on all the ladies?” she asks, smiling.

“Not on the pretty ones,” he smiles back. Rachel bites her lip. “Would you like a drink?”

Rachel’s not a big fan of cheap alcohol.

(“Don’t waste my Merlot, Schwim.”

“I’m not _wasting_ it, _god_. I’m just not downing half a bottle at a time.”

“Oh fuck you.”)

She is a fan of people calling her pretty, though. Which is pretty much what she tells Santana, two hours and many, many drinks later, when the guy’s attempting to take her home.

“Berry, what the fuck,” hisses Santana, grabbing her arm as she makes for the door.

“What?” says Rachel, trying to shake her off.

“I’m all for getting back on the horse, especially when it’s actually your own _age_ , but that guy’s a douchebag, ok? He hit on me like three hours ago and then called me _a fucking dyke_ when I rejected him.”

Rachel’s eyes widen, and she droops.

“Santana-“ she begins.

“Are you _serious_?!” she demands. “Why do you _like_ him?!”

“He made me feel sexy,” she shrugs. “And like I’m the kind of girl who gets guys…”

The look Santana gives her makes feel more ashamed than she has since the McKinley Student President election.

“Who are you trying to impress?” she asks her, and Rachel closes her eyes when she realises.

(She still loses most of her dignity when Santana and Kurt have to carry her home sobbing. But at least that will make a funny story in years to come.)

Rachel spends the weekend chucking out half her wardrobe, aided by Santana.

“If it makes you feel awkward, it has to go,” she insists. “No point rocking a smokin’ dress when it makes you feel like crap.”

(She has a slight moment of weakness tossing out Cassie’s favourite skirt, but she perseveres.)

“No. _No_ ,” Santana says, when Rachel models her skimpiest leotard. She shakes her head. “Why Berry, just why.”

Even Rachel laughs.

*

Rachel finally gets an evening  alone with Cassie.

It’s just like they used to be, Cassie shamelessly flirting and checking Rachel out and making her laugh. It’s almost _too_ easy, and there’s an eery feeling of calm before the storm.

And then suddenly it’s all too much, an hour or two later, when Rachel (or Cassie) finally cracks.

(She’ll never, as long as she lives, forget Cassie’s face the moment she told her _she scared her_.)

*

Cassie, meanwhile, seems…

 _Calmer_.

Rachel knows she’s sober now, even if it’s been a long time since she’s been close enough to smell the scent of Malibu.

Somehow whatever was pulling Cassie away before seems to have relinquished its grip, and she starts to move again like she _knows_ herself, and she knows her own talent. She doesn’t have the same look of forced control; she seems almost like she’s making peace with herself.

Cassie even _looks_ different, with her straight hair and simple make up. Sometimes Rachel barely recognises her from the flirty-drunk who seduced her all those months ago.

(Then her eyes narrow and she detects a fault in someone’s form from the other side of the classroom, and yeah, she’s still Cassie.)

She’s so much sadder, though, and Rachel wonders what’s going on in her mind. Cassie’s started criticising her dancing again, and Rachel almost grins in relief the first time. But now it’s just like Cassie’s forgotten anything ever passed between them, barking _Schwimmer_ across the classroom without so much as a glint in her eye.

She doesn’t know if Cassie’s ever going to stop being angry with her.

(She doesn’t know if Cassie even _cares_.)

*

Rachel’s quiet for most of the journey to Mr Schue's wedding. When they arrive, Kurt jumps on Blaine and Santana clings to Quinn and Rachel’s suddenly all alone in a crowded room. She sits watching the other guests dance, sipping at a familiar cocktail and wishing desperately Cassie was here alongside her. She can hear her snarky comments about the other guests and see her slinking sexily around the dance floor, whirling Rachel so her hair flies in that way she loves.

Someone calls all the single girls up to catch the bouquet, and heck _why not_? Cassie’s promises feel empty and impermanent; but then the moment those flowers fall into her hands Cassie’s face floods her mind and god she just wants her _here_.

Instead, there’s Finn, talking to her about flowers and gardening and _how can you be single if you’re with Brody?_

She doesn’t set him straight, because she can’t; she can’t let Finn know the turn her life has taken, the state it’s in. She can’t tell him that she’s given everything for a woman so volatile and unpredictable she’s left feeling more lonely and scared than she can remember in a long, long time.

So she lets herself pretend, just for a moment, and allows Finn’s familiar comfort to wash over her.

“You know what I think?” he asks, leaning forward, and she smoulders up at him. “I think you’re still in love with someone else.”

(She falters, just for a moment, because he’s so much more right than he knows.)

“Dance with me,” he says, and he leads her onto the floor. She throws her arms around his neck and laughs; then suddenly over her shoulder, she sees Quinn and Santana. They’re dancing, together- very obviously _together_ , and suddenly Rachel feels the wind knocked out of her.

“Actually, I just need some air,” she says, pulling back.

“Rachel, what’s wrong?” Finn asks, looking confused.

“Nothing, I just, I need to make a call,” Rachel tells him, and hurries back to her seat. Cassie’s phone rings and rings, but nothing. Rachel squeezes her eyes shut as she tries not to cry.

“Rachel, are you ok?” Tina asks, looking up at her anxiously from the table.

“Yeah, I’m-“

“Rachel?”

Rachel looks up to see a concerned Finn standing beside her. She sniffs, but then she looks hopelessly down at her phone, and feels the tears rise up in her throat.

“Hey, hey,” Finn says, taking her phone from her and placing it on the table. “Can you-?” he asks Tina, before he wraps and arm around Rachel and leads her away.

“Let’s go get some air, ok.”

But Rachel still can’t tell him, sobbing and shaking about how she’s made a huge mistake.

“I don’t even know who I am anymore!” she tells him, and he holds her while she cries, stroking her hair until she calms down.

(Santana and Quinn run past them at some point, laughing hysterically in between kisses against the corridor walls. Rachel thanks everything she has they don’t see her.)

“Do you want me to take you back to my room so you can lie down?” Finn asks.

“I think I’m gonna go home, I’ve got an early flight,” Rachel says, nodding.

“Ok, do you want me to drive you?” Finn offers.

“No it’s fine, I’ll get a cab,” Rachel assures him.

“Rachel-“

“I just want to go home,” she says, biting her lip, not talking for a moment about Lima.

Their flight lands about mid-afternoon; she leaves her luggage with Santana and Kurt, and goes as fast as she can to Cassie’s loft.

*

Santana starts seeing Quinn, which-

OK, she’s _adjusting_.

“If it’s weird, then…” Santana begins.

“Santana it’s fine,” Rachel assures her. They both know she’s lying; but they both know Santana has no way of finishing that sentence, either.

They’re pretty much the same as they’ve always been, all snarky banter, rolling eyes and hair flips. It makes Rachel wonder why she didn’t see this coming all along.

(It makes her ache when she remembers who she used to be like that with.)

The first time she walks in on them making out, Quinn being pushed up against the kitchen counter by Santana and hands tangled in her hair, she freezes. They don’t even notice her, so she just stands there in horror, feeling like she’s about to throw up. Quinn tips her head back and _moans_ , and it’s actually really, really hot.

Rachel bites her lip, backing quietly away. But then her foot collides with a plant pot and she goes _flying_ , knocking a lamp as she falls to the ground.

“ _Shit!”_ comes a double cry from the kitchen, and Rachel wills the ground to swallow her up.

“I’m sorry, I was just-“ she winces, trying to sit up.

“Berry just fucking tells us when you’re in the room, christ,” Santana says, rolling her eyes whilst Quinn helps Rachel back up. Rachel catches Santana’s eye and cracks a smile, and then suddenly they’re all in hysterics.

It’s kind of ok, after that.

*

Two weeks before finals, her world tips upside down.

A _Funny Girl_ revival has been working the rumour mill for weeks, now. But then suddenly it’s reality, and Rachel’s signing up to audition, and then she’s actually _on the stage_ , singing her heart out about independence and taking chances. She doesn’t sleep for a week, afterwards.

And then she gets the call.

“Ok, yes, thank you so much,” she says, and puts the phone down. Santana and Kurt are staring at her, frozen in anticipation, from across the table.

“Yes? So?” demands Kurt. Rachel’s face breaks out into a grin.

“I’ve got a call back!” she screams.

They jump and cry and hug and get very, _very_ drunk (courtesy of Santana’s fake ID), and Rachel feels like she’s walking around in a rosy bubble until Cassie’s minions confront her.

“She’s never gonna do it,” Rachel tells Kurt later that night. “She _hates_ me.”

“Rachel, you don’t know that,” he says, trying to reason with her, although he doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“The other day, Michael nearly _dropped_ me, and she actually looked disappointed I didn’t hit the ground,” Rachel insists.

“Maybe she’ll surprise you,” Kurt shrugs. Rachel snorts.

She spends the next three days planning how she’s going to approach Cassie. But then she appears, suddenly, sauntering into one of Rachel’s private rehearsals like not a moment has passed since last December. It throws Rachel off completely, not to mention she looks _gorgeous,_ all toned skin and glossy hair. Something stirs in the pit of Rachel’s stomach.

“Who told you?”

“Barbra Streisand!”

Rachel’s eyes narrow as Cassie’s twinkle in triumph. She hates how easily Cassie can still play her.

And then suddenly she’s enveloping Rachel’s personal space, and Rachel struggles to keep focussed as Cassie’s hands send tingles up and down Rachel’s body and _god_ she smells delicious. She wonders for a moment where Cassie’s going to take this.

“… while you are widely regarded as having one of the puffiest morning faces of any known human!”

Cassie’s twinkling at her in the mirror, and she doesn’t catch her jibe until half an hour later, when her heartbeat’s returned to normal. She knows she should probably be offended, but something about the leisurely caressing tone of Cassie’s voice – and her casual reference to what Rachel was so sure she’d _forgotten_ – seems far too intimate to be an insult.

The whole encounter leaves her entirely disconcerted; but she shakes it off, and powers through most of the night in order to prove Cassie wrong. She tells her as much the next morning, and Cassie just smiles like she has a special secret.

Then Cassie has her arm round Rachel and her entire class is holding banners with her name on and maybe she’s actually fallen asleep and this is a wonderful, wonderful dream, but…

_“Baby, everything is alright…”_

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And, yeah, maybe she’s got her life a little more sorted now. Maybe she’s enjoying her morning runs and eating more than fruit and rum for breakfast; maybe she’s pretty much given up alcohol. Maybe she’s working on forgiving herself for a dumb mistake she made ten years ago, and maybe she’s starting to find some kind of peace._
> 
> _But it doesn’t change the fact that when she walks past the studio late one night and glances in to see Rachel leaning carefully, sadly over the barre, so much more precise and elegant than when she stepped into Cassie’s class nine months ago, Cassie’s heart aches in a way only usually reserved for the stage, and she knows she was never happier than when she could walk into that studio and wrap her arms round the girl in front of the mirror and look down to see her smiling up at her._
> 
> _Maybe she was lucky to have had that much._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this story is the most emotionally exhausting thing I've ever done. Sometimes I don't know where Cassie ends and I begin, and writing this chapter was especially like that. I know a lot of people were frustrated at how long it's taken me to update, which I understand, but please know that it was not due to lazing about without concern for my readers, but because I simply did not have the energy to get inside Cassie's head and drag her out from rock bottom.
> 
> That being said, the story is taking a much less exhausting turn, writing-wise, and as there's only 2 or 3 chapters left to write, I pretty much plan on having it finished before Christmas.
> 
> This chapter doesn't merit a trigger warning with the exception of mild blood/violence, but please be aware that the first part is pretty dark, and emotionally taxing.

So.

It’s 3am in the ER and Cassie’s 90% sure she’s in the tenth circle of hell. Or maybe she just hasn’t left SoHo in a really, _really_ long time. The entire place reeks of barf and chemicals and blood, and she’s surrounded by drunks and crying babies.

(She’s pretty sure she’s still drunk herself, but whatever, at least the sweater she’s been vomiting over is designer.)

Lucian hasn’t spoken to her for the last couple of hours, which is just fucking fine. She’d rather he wasn’t here at all, to be honest, but he’d insisted on dragging her to the hospital _literally_ kicking and screaming, when he’d found her lying in her bathroom covered in blood and alcohol.

Which – yeah, ok, it probably looked bad.

(She didn’t fucking mean to break her wrist – the wall was just there – but she’s not going to pretend the throbbing pain isn’t a morbid distraction from something less external.

It can go join the rest of her life she’s destroyed.)

*

It takes approximately 0.5 minutes after Rachel leaves for Cassie to dissolve into rage. She screams like a wounded animal as the pain just gets too much to bear, rocking back and forth and hugging herself with her arms.

Even her shattered wrist doesn’t stop her descent into madness, and she tears her loft apart. She finds a bottle of Malibu from her counter and takes a long swig, coughing as she chokes on her tears.  When she wipes a hand across her face she notices the trail of blood, and for the first time a wave of pain hits her so hard she nearly passes out. She collapses against the counter, panting for a moment before she downs some more rum.

She doesn’t stop drinking until the pain disappears completely.

*

The cab drops them outside Cassie’s loft just as the sun’s beginning to rise. The entire neighbourhood is quiet, for Manhattan, at least, and Cassie desperately wishes it would just _stay_ like that so she could just hide away from the world.

She shakes Lucian off angrily as he tries to help her up the stairs, and reluctantly lets him into her loft.

“ _Christ_ , Cassie,” he gasps, as they both stop dead. And yeah, her loft sure looks a hell of a lot worse in near daylight. A trail of blood leads from the door into the centre of the room, where her broken furniture is overturned and shattered glass forms a glistening, deadly cover over the floor.

Cassie closes her eyes for a moment, then runs her hand through her hair, and winces.

“I’m going to bed,” she says in a croaky voice, willing Lucian to just leave her alone. She crunches her away across the loft and peels off her bloody, stained clothing, then collapses, naked, into her bed, where she passes out.

*

When Cassie wakes up, it’s dark outside. She squints around at her surroundings wondering what the _hell’s_ happened, until she leans on her wrist and a huge rush of pain jolts through her body.

Now she remembers.

She brings her good hand to her temple as the memories return and her head starts to throb. She closes her eyes but all she can see is Rachel walking away and the same blind panic grasps at her. Her eyes snap open again as she gasps for breath, clutching her chest.

“Nooo,” she wails, rolling over into her pillow with a sob. She punches into the softness, letting out her anger as she tries not to hyperventilate.

She needs a drink.

Cassie rolls out of bed, snatching her kimono from the chair and staggers out into her loft. The eery glow from the city lights dances off the furniture, and even in the gloom she can see how much she’s trashed.

“Shit,” she mutters, grabbing a note left on her sparkling kitchen counter.

_I’ve cleaned up your flat._

_Now clean up your life._

_Lucian._

She scrunches the paper into a ball and hurls it at the wall, yelling a croaked, “Fuck you!”

She shouts that again when she’s discovered Lucian’s emptied her alcohol cabinet. There’s at least $500 of alcohol down the fucking drain, but all she cares about right now is getting a drink. She wrenches bottles and jars out of a corner cupboard until she finds an old bottle of vodka in the back.

*

Cassie phones Brody about an hour later, slightly slurringly informing him she’s broken her hand and he’s in charge for the week.

*

Cassie spends the next two days basically catatonic, alternating between drinking, vomiting, and sleeping. The third night she passes out for a full 24 hours, and wakes up for the first time in days completely sober, and in _agony_.

She hates everything. She hates _herself_.

She looks in the mirror at the bruised, pale, disgusting figure looking back at her and she honestly can’t believe she can be this pathetic and still _exist_. Something rips inside of her, and she tears off her clothes, nails scraping at her skin.

Her entire body’s vibrating with pain and she just needs to attack it, needs to find some way of shutting _down._

Her ipod’s still resting on the side, so she whacks some music on and pulls on her skimpiest underwear, before reaching for the vodka.

“This is how to be a heartbreaker…” she hums, painting her eyes until darkness covers up the shadows.

She’s drunk by the time she arrives at the club, but it’s so seedy the bouncer barely gives her a second glance. Some guy, tall and big and leering down at her, buys her a drink, and she downs it easily with a smirk. He raises his eyebrow at her and lets himself be dragged into the middle of the dance floor where she throws her arms around him, pressing her leg into his crotch.

“You know how to have fun,” he slurs into her ear.

“Stop talking,” she tells him, and sticks her tongue down his throat. Their hips are bashing together in time to the music, and his hands are groping clumsily at her breasts, but god she can still _feel_ and it’s horrible. So she grabs the guy’s arm and leads him into the darkest corner of the club, before she pulls him towards her with a smoulder.

Cassie’s head tips back against the wall as he sucks at her neck, his stubble scraping against her skin. She wraps a leg around him and his hands press heavily up the inside of her thigh and push down her underwear. And then he’s fucking her, hard and fast and painful up against the wall, and she feels sick and numb and it’s so, so good.

He tries to kiss her again when it’s over, but she pushes him away and snaps, “Fuck off.” He swears at her before doing up his trousers and disappearing into the crowd, leaving her lying against the wall, panting.

(Half an hour and several tequila shots later she drags someone into the alleyway behind the club, and throws up shortly after he’s left.)

When she gets home there’s blood trickling down her bruised body, and a rip in her dress. It’s the first time in months she finally feels numb.

*

Cassie spends the rest of the week drinking and dancing and fucking, until she collapses on Friday exhausted and crying. She’s too tired to regret her actions, too tired to keep pushing all the pain away and so she just sobs. She sobs until her lungs feel dry and she can barely breathe, sobs until she throws up every last drop of alcohol.

Lucian comes round on Sunday to find her sitting frozen on her sofa, nursing a Bloody Mary.

“Are you kidding me,” he says when he walks into her open loft.

“Fuck off,” she growls, and _fuck_ why is her door not locked?

“Are you trying to kill yourself?!” he demands, standing in front of her.

“I said fuck off!” she yells, jumping up. “Fuck off! Fuck off fuck off _fuck_ _off_!” she screams, throwing her drink across the room.

Lucian stares at her in horror, and she clutches her chest. She feels it constrict and god she can’t _breathe_ , but he’s already walking out of the loft and she can’t believe what she’s just done.

*

Cassie gets a call from Carmen Sunday evening.

“I’m just calling to check up on you, Cassandra. I heard you’d hurt your hand?”

“Yeah, I erm, fell on it,” Cassie tells her, repressing a sigh.

“Will you be carrying on teaching or do I need to call someone in? You can’t leave your class with a TA for another week, especially this close to Midterms,” Carmen reminds her, and Cassie feels an inexplicable urge of guilt.

(And _christ_ she’s always owed so much to Carmen.)

“I’ll be there,” Cassie insists, and hangs up.

She regrets it about half an hour later when the full reality of _seeing Rachel_ hits her. Because _god_ what is she going to do? There’s no way Rachel will keep her cool, and Cassie half expects to be halled into Carmen’s office during some point tomorrow.

Maybe she’s dropped out the class completely.

(That thought makes her feel guiltier than anything.)

*

Cassie carefully wraps up her body in leggings and a long leotard to cover up the bruises, and pulls her hair into a tight ponytail in an attempt to feel like she has an ounce of control over her life.

(She’s starting to shake, but her morning breakfast of Malibu sorts that out.)

Some vicious part of her makes Rachel wait, dragging out the torture until she stalks into her class ten minutes late. Her heart basically pounds out of her chest when she catches sight of Rachel’s tiny figure out of the corner of her eye, hiding in the corner of the room, and she looks anywhere but her whilst she rips her class a new one.

Cassie doesn’t let her eyes wander over to Rachel until she’s about to jump, because she can see clearly she’s shaking so hard she can barely move and _god_ she wants to do something but she’s frozen to the spot.

But then Rachel surprises her, and finds some kind of strength out of nowhere to hold her body together.

That’s more than Cassie’s capable of, and she can’t look at her for the rest of the lesson.

*

Rachel lasts about a week before she cracks, and god it’s so much worse than what Cassie could ever have imagined.

(She can see it happening all lesson like a slow-motion car crash, but all she can do is simmer furiously and silently across the room.)

Rachel storms up to her at the end of class, and shouts, “I don’t care what your problem is with me, but you still have a job to do,” which is such a ridiculous, irrelevant understatement that Cassie nearly laughs.

As it is, she just folds her arms, and waits silently for what she knows is coming.

(And _god_ what she knows she _deserves_.)

But she isn’t prepared for is what follows: Rachel’s cutting, brutally accurate dismantling of her with just a few sentences. Because she’s _right_ , she’s so completely right but Cassie can’t do anything but feel this way and she _hates_ it.

“And you know what it’s  _pathetic_ , ok. You’re  _pathetic_.”

The words hit Cassie like Rachel’s swung a hammer at her chest and she feels everything inside her shatter. She knows, she’s _always_ known and she’s been hoping and praying Rachel would never find out but it’s _true_.

“Drinking yourself into oblivion and fucking up your hand because you can’t live with yourself for screwing over the one person who actually  _loved_  you!”

Cassie’s lungs constrict in agony, and her hand comes up to her mouth to stifle her sobs as Rachel walks out of the dance hall.

*

Cassie turns up on Lucian’s doorstep a few hours later, sobbing.

“I’m so sorry,” she says when he opens the door, and all his anger disappears in about two seconds flat. He opens his arms and Cassie walks into them and she _wails_.

*

She doesn’t stop crying for two hours.

“I honestly thought I couldn’t hate myself anymore… but I have failed everyone _so much_ ,” she whispers, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Cassie you haven’t failed anyone,” Lucian tells her, but he’s so wrong.

“But look at me!” she cries. “I have fucked _everything_ up. And you know, before, it was _just me_. But what I’ve done to Rachel… oh my god I will never forgive myself.”

Cassie pauses as more sobs force their way up her throat.

“And you know just for a _moment_ I thought maybe… _maybe_ I could actually be happy,” she cries. “And it terrified me so much because I couldn’t believe she would ever stick around. I couldn’t believe she actually loved me, but she _did_ …”

Cassie rolls over into Lucian’s side, and he wraps an arm around her, completely torn up.

“Cassie, you _are_ worth loving, okay?” he tells her fiercely, his voice cracking with emotion. “You are so worth it, and that girl _saw_ it, she saw everything in you that was worth loving and battled through every barrier you put up to try and convince you. You fucked up, you hurt her, but Cassie god… I have _never_ seen you love anyone like you loved that girl. And loving someone that much, you know, that’s the best gift you can give to anyone.”

“I miss her so much,” weeps Cassie, sniffing hard. “And I know she’s never coming back.”

Lucian bites his lip.

“Give her time to calm down,” he says, and Cassie heaves a sigh.

“I am so tired,” she tells him wearily. “I am so tired of being miserable, trying to keep _everything_ under control, trying to keep everyone at a distance… I just can’t do it any more, Luce.”

“You know, I think one of the hardest things to do in life is having the courage to let it take you where it wants to,” Lucian says seriously. “You’ve been hurt, baby, and ever since you’ve been trying to hold back anything else from hurting you by keeping your emotions shut off from anyone and anything.”

“Except for you,” mumbles Cassie, burrowing into his chest.

“Yes, well, that’s both a burden and a privilege,” says Lucian wryly, and Cassie snorts. “You’ve got a whole barrage of emotions your mind desperately wants to process, and you’ve just got to let it happen.”

“I don’t know if I can cope,” Cassie tells him quietly, sounding so genuinely _terrified_.

“You can,” Lucian replies instantly, with complete and utter conviction. “You can.”

*

Cassie feels drained of every ounce of energy when she finally arrives home, and so bleak she can’t possibly imagine anything good in the world ever existing again. She just wants to crawl into bed and never, ever get out; but she has class tomorrow, and so she has to face the world.

(She tips all her alcohol down the sink, in one moment of stubborn strength, and _god_ it hurts the next morning, and she’s shaking like a leaf. But the memories of the previous week are still fresh in her mind, and god she never, ever wants to go back.)

She makes it through the next day by some miracle, aided by caffeine and a heavy dose of painkillers. Rachel glances at her every so often, still looking completely furious and Cassie just wants to _cry_ , but she doesn’t; she holds it together until she gets home, and then she sobs.

That’s pretty much what happens every day for the next two weeks.

The thing about trying to ‘unfreeze her soul’, is that all the pesky emotions she’s got used to pushing away now bother her on a daily basis; and her usual coping mechanism of rum and emotional numbness is no longer a valid option.

(She knows she needs to move away from flat out denial if she ever wants to be happy, but _christ_ she feels like she’s a one-woman hormone clinic right now.)

The overwhelming surge becomes too much to process, and she slips into a state of such deep depression not even dancing can bring her any kind of joy. The world is bleak and colourless and she’s so exhausted all the time the only thing that drags her out of bed each day is her pride, and what Rachel would think if she failed.

“I thought  I was supposed to get better after crying my tear ducts dry but I’m only getting _worse_ ,” she says to Lucian in tired dismay, lying dismally on her sofa.

“It’s a process, it takes time,” he says, sipping his coffee by the window.

“I don’t want it to take time!” she replies agitatedly. “This is horrible! I hate it!”

“Stage 2: anger,” says Lucian dryly.

“Yeah I am angry!” shouts Cassie. “I’m angry that that girl is fucking _fine_ and I’m here _dying_! I spend every day thinking about her, about what she’s doing, about how awful I feel, and she’s probably off fucking some guy already!” laughs Cassie in manic dismay.

Lucian sips his coffee.

“I am so done with this, ok?!” she shouts, gesturing wildly. “I’m done with _killing_ myself for a mistake I made ten years ago! I’m done hating myself for being such a failure! And I am _done_ pining after a silly little girl who _doesn’t_ deserve this much of my life.” Cassie stops, panting slightly, staring at Lucian with a hand on her hip and an expression of absolute determination.

Her hearts pounding, pumping adrenaline through her body, but it just feels like her old strength returning to her.

Lucian smiles slowly, and Cassie nods, glancing around them.

“We’ve got some work to do,” she tells him.

*

They’re in the studio, Cassie twirling slowly in front of the mirror, because there’s no time she thinks better than when she’s working.

(Which has always been a pain in the ass, and usually why she pushes herself hard enough for the thoughts to stop.)

“I am _not_ going to therapy,” she tells Lucian as she slides easily into the splits.

“Frankly, I’m not going to submit any therapist to fifty minutes with you,” Lucian replies dryly from the piano, and Cassie almost smirks.

“But you need to find some kind of new way of processing all your emotions. Especially your anger,” Lucian continues, and Cassie rolls her eyes. “You asked for my-“

“Yes, I know,” Cassie says shortly, and Lucian sighs. “I’m trying, okay?” Cassie says more quietly, and she stretches in silence for a few moments.

“You know my mom always used to go running after her divorce,” Lucian suggests slowly. “And that worked out pretty well for her.”

“Is that where she found her Rio billionaire?” Cassie smiles, sliding her chest down onto her leg.

“Oh no, that was the third husband,” Lucian deadpans.

“Oh, ok,” Cassie replies, grinning up at him from the floor.

Lucian laughs.

*

She’s just about okay until Lucian leaves, and then the emotional challenge facing her suddenly looms like a mountain, and it’s all she can do not to reach for the vodka.

(Or, at least, her purse, seeing as Lucian’s regularly checking her empty liquor cabinet these days.)

But then she remembers the expression of faux-concern on Rachel’s face these days, as if she’s just _waiting_ for Cassie to collapse drunkenly out of control in her class, and she steels herself. She finds some dance clothes that can double as running gear, grabs a water bottle and jogs out into the sunset.

(She’s been running about three times in the last five years, and all of those times have been because of Rachel.)

It’s slightly terrifying for the first ten minutes or so; mainly because she’s worried someone will see her lolloping about SoHo, getting progressively sweatier and redder. By the time she makes it to Central Park she’s gasping and her chest’s starting to burn and she’s obviously ridiculously fit, but her body just isn’t used to pushing itself in this way.

Her mind is, though, so she sprints down a side path away from the tourists, and as the repetitive thump of her sneakers echoes around her and the cool evening breeze rushes past her, she starts to calm down. She starts to feel a little _free_.

Maybe it’s because it’s the first thing she’s done in years that’s _nothing_ to do with Broadway, or maybe it’s the freedom of mind the repetitive rhythm gives her; but when she gets home she sets her alarm a half hour earlier, and sprints out the next morning into the sunrise.

*

Cassie’s still suffering from mild withdrawal symptoms, and she still feels on the verge of tears most days, but running gives her some semblance of _healthy_ control over her life.

(And it makes her so hungry in the mornings that she actually eats a proper breakfast, which keeps her from hating everything until at least 11am.)

She’s getting through her classes kind of okay; she’s pretty sure her students are all still terrified of her, at least enough to dance their absolute best every lesson, and Rachel…

Cassie’s learning to deal with the idea that Rachel hates her, but she can’t deal with the idea that Rachel might still _care_.

(It’s far too painful to even consider, so she just doesn’t.)

Once after another hour of trying to pretend the short, beautiful student dancing around her studio doesn’t have entire control of her heart, she’s overwhelmed, just for a moment.  She leans over the piano, exhausted, and hating herself for this heartbreak that is entirely her own making.

(When she glances up, just for a second, to see Rachel watching her with raw, heartfelt concern, her heart jumps in hope, and she hates herself all the more for it.)

Cassie tries to push that glimmer of hope away, but it nestles inside of her, burning slowly, and pushes her to take risks in allowing the iron boundaries she’d constructed between her and Rachel to be chipped away, ever so slightly. She can’t stop herself from letting her body brush a whisper too close, or her eyes linger just a second after Rachel catches her gaze. She can see the worry lying in Rachel’s eyes and something inside of her wonders _maybe, maybe…_

Then one day she’s marching towards her class when she hears her students gossiping ostensibly about her. It’s not the kind of thing she ever pays attention to, and when she hears Tabitha giggle, “Or maybe somebody finally broke her icy heart,” she merely narrows her eyes because they have _no_ idea.

But then she hears another voice, loud and emotional and angry:

“Maybe you should _shut your mouth_.”

Cassie has a split-second to compose her features into an icy mask before she marches into her studio, desperately not looking at Rachel who’s staring at her more wide-eyed and terrified than anyone else in the room.

“Don’t stop gossiping on my account,” she drawls instinctively, and turns away before any sign of weakness can pass across her features. Her heart’s hammering as she busies herself at the piano, and she rams her eyes shut to stall the onslaught of emotions.

 _Focus_.

She blocks everything out and shifts into autopilot and does her damn job, but all she can think about is Rachel full of raw emotion rushing instinctively to her defence and _god_ does she still feel anything other than hatred for Cassie?

Rachel catches her staring, and Cassie glances quickly away, blinking her eyes against the sudden wetness.

*

Lucian comes round that evening for dim sum, and she honestly tries to keep her emotions under control because she is _tired_ of using her best friend as a crutch. But then he surveys her quietly and asks if everything’s okay, and Cassie bites her lip.

“No, it’s fine, it’s nothing,” she says, waving her hand absent mindedly as she pours a mocktail. “There was just some… gossiping today in Dance 101,” she adds, lightly brushing her hair from her face. “About me…”

“And Rachel?” Lucian asks carefully, sipping his drink.

“It was actually Rachel jumping to my defence,” Cassie says as casually as possible, but Lucian raises an eyebrow.

They don’t talk about it for the rest of the evening, until the _West Wing_ credits roll, and Cassie says sleepily:

“She doesn’t hate me.”

Lucian’s silent, lazily stroking Cassie’s hair as she rests on his lap.

“And the entire world shifts on its praxis,” Cassie continues slightly dryly, waving a hand.

“The world does not _revolve_ around Rachel Berry,” Lucian tells her darkly, and Cassie snorts.

“Try telling her that.”

“Try telling _you_ that.”

Cassie glares at him, somewhat ineffectively, and then sighs.

“I just miss… I miss having her make everything better.”

“Cassie that is _exactly_ your problem,” Lucian says sharply, and Cassie sits up to look at him. “You were using her as a distraction. All your pain, your anger, your broken ambitions, you poured all that emotion into _her_ , all that energy into loving _her_ , into helping _her_ succeed.”

Cassie draws a shaky breath, and leans her hand against her temple.

“This is so hard!” she says tearfully. “I hate how hard this is!”

“I know, baby, I know,” Lucian says more softly, wrapping an arm round her and pulling her into his shoulder. “But you’ve got to face up to these things. And you’ve got to forgive yourself for them if you’re ever going to start healing. And if you ever want a shot at being happy.”

*

Rachel’s ogling Cassie the moment she walks into class the next day. Her heart jumps, but she purses her lips and shouts, “Something wrong, Schwimmer?”

Rachel nearly jumps out of her skin, and gapes helplessly at her.

“Cat got your tongue?” she asks unsympathetically, flicking through her choreo notes. She notices a few of the students turn round, wondering if Cassie’s about to launch into an attack.

“No, I- no,” Rachel replies, brushing her hair from her eyes.

“Warm up, let’s go!” Cassie yells suddenly, turning round and clapping her hands. The class scurries into position, and she feels a little more of a buzz than usual as she surveys them.

Rachel’s still glancing at her every two seconds, but Cassie ignores it, and critiques her along with every other student as she passes by.

“Head _up_ , Schwimmer,” Cassie says, jabbing at Rachel’s chin with her cane, and then continues walking.

She can feel Rachel’s eyes boring into the back of her, but for the first time in months, it’s only about 75% a bother.

*

For the first time in nearly five years, Cassie decides to choreograph a new dance, entirely for herself. She spends nearly two weeks moving agitatedly in front of the mirror, but she’s almost forgotten how to connect with herself in this way.

(Very, very deliberately.)

Then finally she resigns herself to the inevitable, and cautiously picks out an old CD from her rack. She scrolls through the tracks until she finds what she’s looking for, and bites her lip as she presses play. The opening notes wash over her like a long-lost love, and she listens to the entire song with her eyes closed.

It hurts. _God_ it hurts.

The second time round she lets her body start to move, and it feels strangely like she’s forgiving herself for abandoning an old friend.

*

The dance turns into a series, and Lucian suggests hesitantly she looks into performing it.

“No, it’s personal,” Cassie says, as she comes to a rest in front of him one evening in the studio.

“Cassie this is… this is really good,” he tells her, and she bites her lip.

“It’s for me, okay, it’s not for anything else,” she insists quietly. “But… thank you.”

And, yeah, she’s starting to believe in her own talent again, and not just her ability to terrify a classroom. She knows how good she is, how good she is _now_. She doesn’t have to live off the memories of her faded success to convince herself (or anyone else) of that.

But that doesn’t mean for a moment she ever wants to go near a stage again. That’s gone now, for good.

*

Cassie agrees to birthday drinks, under the insistence she only has _two_ cocktails.

“Otherwise we all know I’m going to end up trying to chat up the strippers again, okay,” Cassie tells Lucian, smirking,

“Didn’t you end up chucked out of the club?” Lucian laughs.

“We both nearly ended up in jail, okay,” Cassie reminds him. “It was only your boyfriend who bailed us out.”

“He’s a keeper,” Lucian smiles.

“Hmm,” replies Cassie non-committedly, and Lucian thwats her on the arm.

And, yeah, maybe she’s got her life a little more sorted now. Maybe she’s enjoying her morning runs and eating more than fruit and rum for breakfast; maybe she’s pretty much given up alcohol. Maybe she’s working on forgiving herself for a dumb mistake she made ten years ago, and maybe she’s starting to find some kind of peace.

But it doesn’t change the fact that when she walks past the studio late one night and glances in to see Rachel leaning carefully, sadly over the barre, so much more precise and elegant than when she stepped into Cassie’s class nine months ago, Cassie’s heart aches in a way only usually reserved for the stage, and she knows she was never happier than when she could walk into that studio and wrap her arms round the girl in front of the mirror and look down to see her smiling up at her.

Maybe she was lucky to have had that much.

*

Cassie’s in Carmen’s office having a casual end of year review when the subject of Rachel comes up.

“How would you say things have gone with Miss Rachel Berry this year?” Carmen enquires, leaning back in her chair.

Cassie forces herself to be calm.

“She was definitely… a challenging student,” Cassie begins slowly, and when Carmen laughs lightly, it makes Cassie crack a smile. “But she has progressed… more than any other student I’ve ever met,” Cassie says honestly. “She’s worked harder, listened more, _cared_ more than I ever thought was possible.”

“You sound almost as if you’ve become fond of her,” Carmen muses, pyramiding her fingers. Cassie smiles sadly.

“I suppose even I can’t hate anyone forever.”

Carmen raises an eyebrow.

“Well, rumour has it she has a call back for _Funny Girl_.”

Cassie’s entire boy freezes as literally a thousand different emotions hit her all at once and she can’t pick anything out except for admiration and _agony_. She takes a deep breath, looking away from Carmen for a moment, and she thinks about what Rachel’s face must have been like when she got the call, and pride and love win out over anything.

“That’s amazing,” she says softly, smiling in disbelief.

“And only a Freshman. I think we can expect great things from that girl,” Carmen tells her, and Cassie bites her lip.

“I don’t think Rachel’s capable of anything else.”

*

Cassie sits til 2am that night, cradling a mug of black coffee and staring out of her towering windows as she tries to figure out what Rachel’s call back _means_.

Will she get it; will she leave NYADA?

The thought of Rachel disappearing from her life nearly paralyses her with fear, and catapults her into the realisation that she has to _do_ something.

She’s proud and she’s happy and she’s regretful and she’s nostalgic and she’s full of admiration and longing and fear and love and _god_ Rachel really is just like her.

And it _hurts_ , god it hurts; it hurts so much watching her protégée tiptoe at the waters of stardom when she’s long been shunned into the shadows.

But she doesn’t wish, not for a moment, that she had this opportunity instead of Rachel. And then she knows what she has to do.

*

Cassie summons her bitchiest minions, because this is a job that needs doing properly. They buy into her story laughably easy, and run off to convince Rachel Cassie is out to get her more than ever. When they appear back in her dance hall, practically bouncing of the walls to please her, she smiles in smug satisfaction at what she knew all along, and wonders at how much fun she can have surprising Rachel.

A lot, it turns out.

She corners Rachel the next afternoon when she knows she’s rehearsing in the dance hall.

“I’m sorry, I thought that I reserved this room,” says Rachel vaguely sarcastically.

Somehow, Rachel doesn’t look that surprised to see her. Maybe she knows Cassie too well to think she’d get away with this quietly.

But it’s the first time they’ve been alone in a room since their dinner before that horrible wedding, and as soon as Cassie saunters in she can _feel_ how thick the air is. There’s only one way she knows how to respond to that.

“So you could stare at yourself in the mirror, and run lines for your Funny Girl callback?”

Rachel rolls her eyes, resigned to her fate, and Cassie continues in a desperate attempt to hide how nervous she is. Rachel clearly has no idea and, eyes Cassie in fear.

“You know this isn’t a normal process, right? Running lines in the mirror? Actors less narcissistic than yourself actually prefer to rehearse with other actors.” A grin fights its way onto Cassie’s face as she imagines the idea of running lines with Rachel, because it’s kind of hilarious but also sort of _nice._

Rachel’s looking at her like she wishes her a long and painful death.

“Who told you about my callback?” Rachel asks quietly, and Cassie can’t quite resist winding her up a little more.

“Barbra Streisand!” she tells Rachel, and she nearly melts at the split-second flicker of hope in Rachel’s eyes. It kind of throws her off her game and she starts rambling, and maybe she twists the knife in a _little_ too far but she can’t really stop. “A very close personal friend. See I ran into her at Target, and in passing she said a NYADA Freshman who looks like a troll was slated to read for the producers on Tuesday.”

The flicker of hurt in Rachel’s eyes makes her look away for a moment in guilt, and jolts her back to reality. She has a plan that she needs to see through.

“And I thought to myself, Babs can’t be talking about Schwimmer. Schwimmer has her dance Final that day!”

Realisation floods Rachel’s eyes, and she looks terrified.

“Please Miss July,” she says desperately, and god it hurts how much Rachel wants this part, it hurts so much she almost gives in then and there.

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity-“

Cassie interrupts her before she can tug her heartstrings to pieces, and turns towards the window to before Rachel sees.

“Right, I wouldn’t dream of you missing it,” she says, walking away from Rachel as she tries to gain some composure, because the idea that Rachel genuinely believes she’d sabotage her just makes her feel _sick_. She hardens up, and slips completely into character, and _maybe_ if she pushes it far enough Rachel will realise she’s not entirely serious.

“It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for me too, and I plan on attending that callback. Because you have a tendency to choke under pressure… So I’m gonna be there! With Barba and her husband James Brolin, to watch you blow your first big Broadway audition.”

Rachel’s staring at her in horror.

“In the meantime I’m gonna change your Final to tomorrow morning.”

“What?” Rachel asks in panicked disbelief.

And it’s almost hilarious how far Cassie’s taking this, and she can’t help fall in love with Rachel a little more over how easy it is to wind her up so much.

(She really, really hopes Rachel sees the funny side in years to come.)

“You heard me David. Six am tomorrow morning you will perform the solo of the second act of Balanchine’s 1941 masterpiece Concerto Baracco.”

Her job is done... and Rachel’s there looking so adorably terrified she can’t quite resist messing with her just a little more in the most delicious way possible.

“Which is widely regarded as one of the most difficult ballet pieces of all time,” she says in a slightly lower voice, sauntering towards her. She doesn’t miss the quick glance at her abs, nor how Rachel’s eyes widen as she nears her like she’s just realised how close they are, and she wonders what Rachel thinks she’s about to do.

(And she’s not imagining it, but there’s definitely a glimmer of that familiar, dangerous curiosity in Rachel’s eyes.)

“While you’re widely regarded…” she tells her, reaching out to Rachel with her hands and hearing her breath hitch as they come to rest on her shoulders. She slowly turns her round and she can see Rachel desperately struggling to maintain control.

“… as having one of the puffiest morning faces of any known human!”

Rachel sort of freezes as the implications of Cassie’s words fully hit home, and god she smells so good and she’s so close so Cassie sort of rubs her shoulders almost _affectionately_.

“It’s gonna be a great combination,” she says, in such a husky voice that Rachel looks at her for a moment with this _longing_ like they’re right back where they used to be.

They’re so close and the soft skin of Cassie’s abs is brushing against Rachel’s back and her hands are stroking up and down her cashmere-covered shoulders and Rachel’s just staring at her with these wide, wide eyes. But Cassie has a plan that she needs to see through, so she smirks sweetly at Rachel, and saunters out whilst she still has control.

*

She basically doesn’t sleep at all that night, partly because she knows Rachel’s up too, furiously learning the ridiculously difficult dance assigned to her (and Cassie can’t resist chuckling at the image of Rachel determinedly dancing around her loft because she _knows_ she won’t let herself be beaten by Cassie); but partly because she’s fucking _terrified_ because there are _so_ many ways in which this could go wrong.

(There’s actually no way it can conceivably go _right_ as far as Cassie’s concerned, because what’s Rachel going to do, jump into her arms and get them both kicked out of NYADA?

She’ll settle for Rachel just knowing that she believes in her, that she supports her, that she _loves_ her; but that in and out of itself is enough of a task.)

She accosts Rachel on her way into NYADA and leads her to the dance hall, and maybe their encounter last night in the dance hall broke some of the tension between them because it feels so incredibly natural, marching down the corridors together like partners in crime, winding Rachel up and Rachel just rolling her eyes right back.

She kind of loves it.

When Rachel whips round in determination Cassie can’t help smiling in adoration at her; her smile only grows wider when Rachel forcibly insists Cassie still can’t get the better of her, and she almost explodes in excitement about how much she’s about to prove her wrong, and show Rachel what she’s seen in her all along.

“Mm,” smiles Cassie, and then she opens the door and let’s Rachel inside, to a dance hall full of Rachel’s classmates.

Rachel stops.

“What’s this?” she falters.

“This is your Final,” Cassie tells her, shrugging off her jumper whilst Rachel takes in the scene around her.

“I don’t understand…”

Cassie slings an arm round Rachel and lets her know that it’s okay, that she’s in Cassie’s performance and they’re on stage but she’s entirely under Cassie’s protection, because this speech might be for everyone else but what’s between the lines is for Rachel and Rachel alone.

“This is NYADA. We are the best of the best, and make no mistake we will _crush_ you to get the role ourselves. But we are also family-“

And that’s where Cassie’s voice cracks slightly, because she hates these people and this world that’s so brutally rejected her, and she could never for a second consider these rising stars her equals. But they like Rachel, they consider her one of their own; and more importantly, she needs to somehow convince everyone in this room this is a show she puts on for everyone.

“We get through it together, and we celebrate together when there’s big news.” Cassie pauses, and when she speaks next her entire tone is softer and more intimate, because she’s now really just speaking to Rachel, and what she’s trying to convey is so much more than what she’s saying out loud.

“And this is big news…”

She smiles, and saunters towards Rachel, circling her like this is some kind of seduction, and in an instant they’re back in their own special place again.

“You’ve danced your way through the fire all year,” she teases, and the smouldering look she levels Rachel with says quite clearly she’s talking about so much more than Cassie’s teaching, acknowledging everything Rachel’s been put through in being so close to Cassie. Rachel’s staring at her in raptured disbelief, with a small smile on her lips like she understands Cassie’s own special version of an apology. For a moment they’re the only two people in the room, Cassie staring at Rachel with teasing eyes, like she’s daring her to take a leap of faith and believe Cassie really is saying exactly what Rachel’s too scared to believe.

“And you’re still standing tall,” says Cassie proudly, smiling softly at Rachel. “So… we are gonna get you through this exam,” she tells her, and Rachel’s grin finally breaks through as she realises exactly what Cassie’s saying.

(Because it’s not about her exam, it’s not about that at all.)

“So you can kick some NYADA ass at your _first big Broadway callback_!”

The entire class breaks into cheers, pulling out banners from nowhere and Rachel laughs in utter joy.

“Oh my god!” she cries, lighting up like Christmas Day, and Cassie’s heart swells as she turns back round to Cassie with a huge grin, shaking her head in disbelief like she can’t believe she’s done this, but the expression on her face shows she’s never doubted Cassie’s capacity for goodness for a moment.

Cassie shrugs like it’s nothing, but she is literally bursting with joy and when the music starts she’s jumping around like a kid because her plan’s worked and for this one dance she’s got Rachel back.

(She’s got one chance to show her how much she loves her, and when she walks forward singing to Rachel, Rachel knows exactly that.)

She brings her hands up to her head like she’s just overwhelmed with happiness that Cassie still loves her but _of course_ she does because Rachel is _perfect_. And she just wants Rachel to know that everything is okay, that Cassie is here and she loves her and she’s supporting her and Rachel is going to 100% kick ass at everything she does.

Cassie breaks off into her routine, and she knows she has literally never danced this happily in her entire life. She can see Rachel watching and dancing from the sidelines, and when she turns round and sings _I’m the apple of my girl’s eye_ Rachel claps her hands in delight and bursts into laughter.

She’s still kind of shy and Cassie doesn’t want to push her, but then Rachel taps her on the shoulder and holds out her arms and Cassie’s whirling her round the floor with Rachel looking at her like she’s the entire world and _god she’s the luckiest woman in the world right now._

Rachel spins away from her and just before she lets her go she sings _my heart is true_ and chucks her affectionately under the chin because it _is_.

Rachel throws herself into the dance after that, letting herself be spun round the dance hall by her friends and laughing and clapping along with them, and this is everything Cassie wanted and more.  Rachel dances happily towards her and Cassie beckons her over like they’re two teenagers in love, jumping and playing with her hair as she stares at Rachel like she’s the best thing in the world.

(She _is,_ and if Rachel has any doubts left at all that Cassie thinks she’s anything less than that, she gives her all to the next verse to convince her otherwise.)

Rachel’s grinning at her, completely losing herself in the party and Cassie is too, dancing along with her students because Rachel is so happy and dancing and everything is perfect.

She kind of wants to jump in and whisk her away, but this is Rachel’s party and Rachel’s celebration, so she shimmies off to the side, letting her students enclose Rachel as the song comes to an end.

(It’s such an eery re-run off how their dance off ended all those months ago, except now Cassie is letting the entire show be about Rachel, and it feels…)

The entire class bursts into applause and Cassie claps kind of sadly along with them, backing away. She’s done her job but it’s time to go, because this is Rachel’s moment. She watches them as she walks away, checking everything’s okay, but they’re still cheering an ecstatic Rachel and she grins.

(She just about makes it out the door before she lets herself have one moment of weakness and casts a longing look over her shoulder.

Her eyes catch Rachel’s just for a second, and when she sees the expression of overwhelming love and gratitude on Rachel’s face, it makes the aching pain in her chest undoubtedly worth it.)

*

Rachel finds her the next afternoon.

She knows it’s her from the moment she hears footsteps, and smiles when she announces her presence with the banging of a cane.

“What’s that?” asks Cassie in a sultry tone, like it’s six months ago and they’re curled up in Cassie’s bed.

“It’s a gift,” Rachel tells her, and Cassie grins because she’s about 90% sure it’s just another excuse for them to be in the same room together. “I got it at the Broadway flee market. It is Debbie Allen’s original cane from Fame. The movie.”

Cassie hums in response, smirking at the reference, and Rachel grins.

“I wanted to thank you for what you did,” says Rachel seriously, and Cassie’s heart trembles.

“The number?” she says dismissively, as if she can brush this off. “That’s a NYADA tradition. We do that when one of the tribe gets a Broadway audition.”

Rachel quietly waits for Cassie to finish deflecting, then tells her earnestly, “Not the number. I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me this year.”

And maybe she can sense Cassie’s awkwardness, her guilt at Rachel thanking her after everything she’s put her through, because her tone lightens slightly.

“So,” she says, handing Cassie the cane. “Thank you.”

Cassie snatches the cane reluctantly from her.

“I’ve busted your ass since September,” Cassie says disgruntledly, and it’s not what she wants to apolgise for at _all_ , but Rachel knows that.

She always knows.

“You’ve made me a better dancer,” she reassures Cassie instantly, and Cassie’s stares up at her with unfettered love. “And that’s why I came to NYADA to learn, and… be challenged.”

Cassie looks away in shame, and Rachel sees, adding, “And to work with the best of the best.”

It’s now or never.

“I saw something in you,” Cassie tells her, and Rachel’s expression softens. “That first day,” she continues, getting up, “And I thought to myself… This one’s special. This one might make it.”

She’s moving closer and closer to Rachel, who’s staring at her with these wide puppy dog eyes like Cassie holds the entire world in her hands with her approval, and _god_ she just wants to cross that one last line.

But she can’t, because she has a job to do, and that doesn’t involve ruining her student’s future.

“And that’s why I’m so relentless,” she finishes, waving a dismissive hand as she turns away from Rachel. But they’re in that place now, and Rachel takes advantage of it.

“Even the whole… Brody thing?” she asks nervously, and that’s not what she’s asking at all, but Cassie understands.

“Well _that_ was because of his abs,” she smirks.

“Oh, but yours are so much _better_ ,” says Rachel endearingly, and they’re literally a hairs breadth away from crossing the line of no return and it literally _kills_ Cassie, but she does her job, and deflects.

“When’s your callback?”

“Oh, it’s next week,” Rachel tells her, slightly awkwardly. And then Cassie’s right in front of her again and Rachel seizes the opportunity and says earnestly, “I am so nervous Miss July. I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life.”

And what Cassie says next she believes in like she believes the earth is round and the sky is blue.

“You’re gonna get it,” she tells her. “I know you will Rachel,” and Rachel’s staring at her she holds the keys to the universe, and all that matters in the world is that she’s here and she’s standing in front of Cassie and she loves her.

Cassie gives in one last time and wraps her arms around Rachel, sighing softly into her the familiar embrace, and she’s home. She feels Rachel snuggle into her shoulder and squeeze her tighter, and she never, ever wants to let go.

But she has to, because if she doesn’t now she truly never will.

She pulls back, smiling sadly at Rachel who’s blushing like can’t quite believe what Cassie’s just given her, and then she walks away before gives into herself.

*

Cassie’s happiness is bittersweet, but even the knowledge that she can’t _be_ with Rachel doesn’t stop the warm joy emanating from her chest, or wipe the shit-eating grin off her face. She breaks her own record three days in a row on her morning run, and actually _laughs_ when a dog nearly runs into her.

Finals finish at the end of that week, along with the rest of the semester, which means she has absolutely no opportunity to casually run into Rachel and find out how her audition went.

(She tries to forget that she still has her address because _no_.)

Then Friday afternoon, when she’s clearing out her desk before summer school starts, she finds a small CD with a note attached. She frowns for a second, then notices the gold star on the paper and chuckles.

“Oh, Schwim…”

She opens the note, and bites her lip when she reads the familiar writing inside.

_I’ve never wanted something more in my entire life._

Cassie smiles, and tucks the CD into her bag. She forgoes the rest of her clearing in favour of rushing home, shoving the CD in her laptop and sitting back, biting her lip.

Rachel appears on screen, standing nervously in the centre of a studio somewhere, and Cassie recognises the situation instantly.

 _She’s sent her a recording of her audition_.

Cassie smiles, her hand coming up to her mouth to fight back the sudden tears.

Then the music trickles in, and oh god this _song._

Rachel begins singing with more raw, earnest emotion than she’s ever seen in her life and she knows without a doubt every word of this is for her. She’s never seen Rachel like this. She just comes _alive_ when she sings and it’s like everything she’s been wanting to tell Cassie she’s showing her now.

She didn’t believe she loved her like this. She didn’t believe it at all.

Rachel launches into the chorus and Cassie feels tears of disbelief appear in her eyes as her heart literally bursts with love. How can she be willing to give so much for Cassie? How can she forgive her after everything she’s done and be so completely devoted?

Rachel’s singing with utter certainty of her love, and Cassie wonders when the insecure, naive little girl became a young woman, looking into the face of all Cassie’s burdens and challenges and believing so completely that their love is stronger.

She sees the tears in Rachel’s eyes and god she’s never loved anyone more than this. She knows in that moment without any shadow of a doubt she would do anything and everything to make Rachel happy. When Rachel belts the last glory notes it’s like a siren call, like she’s begging her with everything she has to come and find her and take a chance and so Cassie _does_.

*

Cassie’s heart pounds so fast she’s pretty sure she might stop _breathing_ as she hammers on Rachel’s door, but there is literally nowhere else she could be bear to be right now. The door slides open to reveal a beautiful Latina woman whose eyes narrow the moment she sees Cassie, and who she thus assumes to be Santana.

Santana crosses her arms over her chest, and raises an eyebrow.

“Now what in the _world_ would possess you to be standing outside my loft?” she asks sweetly, and Cassie purses her lips.

“I’m here to talk to Rachel, Rita Moreno,” Cassie tells her, and Santana laughs.

“What, so you can find out yet _more_ ways to brutally trash her heart, until she’s crying over my Prada sweater and watching Lifetime movies for another 6 months?” Santana asks with a smile, eyes flashing.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cassie replies icily.

“Santana, who is that?” comes a male voice from inside the loft she dimly remembers as Baby Lucian.

“Nobody, just…”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Baby Lucian says as her peers past Santana, and Cassie rolls her eyes. “Rachel!” he calls, and Santana hits him.

“Kurt!”

“Believe me when I tell you, she will destroy you to get her way into this flat,” Kurt says darkly, and Cassie smiles briefly at Santana before pushing past Kurt. She’s still moving when Rachel appears from behind a bookshelf, and they both stop dead.

Rachel’s whole face lights up with happiness, and Cassie can’t help smiling back.

“Hey,” she says softly, moving towards her. “What are you… what are you doing here?” she asks, looking up at Cassie.

“I saw your audition,” Cassie tells her quietly, and Rachel blushes, lowering her eyes. “The part’s yours Schwim.”

“Really?” asks Rachel, looking back up at her with wide, hopeful eyes. Cassie almost leans down and kisses her then and there, but some part of her brain reminds her to be sensible, and besides, they’re still not _alone_.

“How about I take you for an early celebratory drink?” Cassie suggests teasingly, and Rachel nods, grinning.

“Yeah, I- Yeah.”

*

They go somewhere classy and quiet. Cassie orders some champagne, and they sit down on some plush couches near the back.

“Congratulations,” Cassie says in a low voice, chinking her glass against Rachel’s.

“You’re gonna jinx it!” she giggles, but she drinks too, smiling at Cassie.

“When will you find out?” Cassie asks.

“They said sometime this week,” Rachel tells her. “Rehearsals start at the end of the month, so I guess I’ll know by then.”

“Will you leave NYADA?”

“Honestly I’ve tried not to think about it,” says Rachel truthfully. “It’s all so crazy, you know, in my Freshman year to get a Broadway lead.”

“I did,” Cassie says simply, and Rachel stares at her in shock.

“Are you serious?!”

“Yes,” smiles Cassie. “I was in my first year at Tisch when I got the revival in Damn Yankees.”

Rachel’s face drops in recognition.

“Rachel I’m not trying to scare you,” Cassie reassures her, running a hand across her knee. “You’re not like me. You didn’t grow up in a vacuum of praise and naivety. You have friends and family who support you and criticise you… and you’re _ready_.”

Rachel’s kind of staring at her with her Furby eyes, wide and compassionate and brimming with tears, because she _knows_ Cassie’s just shared the one most significant event in her life so far, and she knows that Cassie’s passing her legacy on to Rachel, without an ounce of jealousy or bitterness or sabotage.

“I miss you so much,” Rachel says in a rush, choked, and all the tension of the last six months just disappears.

“I miss you too, Schwim,” says Cassie softly, and Rachel nods, glancing down at her lap.

“I don’t know what to do,” Rachel tells her, and starts talking like she’s wanted to confess this all to Cassie for months. “Because I want to be happy, and I don’t think that’s _possible_ if I’m not with you. But I don’t know if you could ever…” She trails off, and when her eyes meet Cassie’s again she can see Rachel’s literally dancing on the precipice, waiting for Cassie to either give her a lifeline or let her fall to the depths.

The world kind of stops, for a moment, and all Cassie can hear is the sound of her heart thumping in her ears. Her mouth goes dry and every fear she’s ever had seems to be squeezing her ribcage until she can’t actually breathe.

“I can,” she croaks. “I mean, I can try. For you.”

Rachel’s eyes light up like Cassie’s honestly given her the world. And maybe she kind of has, or at least, her world. Then Rachel’s shoulders start to shake and she begins to cry and Cassie would roll her eyes but she’s kind of crying too, so she just pulls Rachel’s body into hers and encases her in her arms.

*

Cassie walks Rachel back to her loft, and _christ_ Bushwick is a pain in the ass, but she’s _trying_.

“So, I’ll see you at the Summer Showcase tomorrow?” Rachel asks her. “I’m performing.”

“Of course you are,” Cassie teases, and Rachel whacks her playfully on the arm.

“I don’t think they’ll let me win twice, though. Which is probably good, I don’t know if my ego could take it,” Rachel concedes, and Cassie laughs.

“You and your ego wouldn’t even fit in the building!”

“No!” Rachel giggles, shaking her head, and Cassie bites her lip as she grins.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, brushing her hand against Rachel’s.

“You’re not going to kiss me goodnight?” Rachel says lowly, looking up at her through long lashes and Cassie _gapes_ because _christ_ she’d forgotten how dangerously sexy Rachel can be.

Rachel smirks, and Cassie smiles in mild disbelief. Then she tucks a strand of hair behind Rachel’s ear, gently stroking her jawbone with her thumb, and presses her lips softly against Rachel’s… and god it’s just like coming home. Rachel sighs against her, and she lingers, because somewhere in the back of her head she knows they’ll never have _this_ again; never have this first moment of actually _knowing_ each other.

When Cassie eventually pulls back, Rachel’s staring up at her with parted lips and the lingering doubts that Rachel doesn’t love her dissipates further at the look of unfettered joy in Rachel’s eyes.

“Night,” Rachel whispers.

“Night Schwim,” says Cassie softly back, and watches as Rachel goes into her loft, sliding the door closed with a smile.

*

Rachel’s flawless, obviously. She performs a duet with Kurt and it’s so light-hearted, and their chemistry is amazing, that Cassie comes away feeling like she’s floating with happiness.

(She actually agrees to go to an after party with her colleagues and they look ready to faint from shock, but whatever, that’s theatre.)

Rachel goes home with her own friends, which is both a relief and further torture, but Cassie’s pretty determined not to fuck things up this time, and Rachel seems to be on a similar wavelength.

“I’m going to spend the weekend with Kurt and Santana, but I’ll see you in a couple of days?” she says to Cassie hopefully before she leaves.

“Well, we have no classes now, so how about you come over to mine on Monday?” Cassie asks vaguely suggestively, and Rachel grins, nodding.

*

“Hey,” says Rachel softly, when Cassie opens her door.

“Hey,” Cassie smiles back, letting Rachel in. She walks forward and presses her lips gently against Cassie’s, letting a hand come to rest caressingly at her side before she pulls back. Cassie’s smile grows.

“So, I think we should talk,” Rachel tells her seriously, and Cassie kind of freezes. “No, I don’t mean like that!” Rachel reassures her, taking her hand. “I just… I kind of want to start on the right foot,” she shrugs, and Cassie sags in relief.

(Although only partly, because this is still going to be _hard_.)

“Come on,” she says, more bravely than she feels, and leads Rachel over to her sofa, where they sit down together, knees lightly brushing.

“So, I told Santana she has to be nicer the next time you come round,” Rachel says, and Cassie laughs.

“So… there’s going to be a next time?” she asks cautiously, watching Rachel with wide, careful eyes.

“Do you want there to be?” Rachel asks her, and Cassie nods. “Me too,” she smiles.

They pause.

“How’s your hand?” Rachel asks, and Cassie glances down at the fading bruise.

“Well, the doctor said it would take about a year to heal completely, but it doesn’t hurt too much anymore,” she says, and looks up to see Rachel biting her lip in concern. “It’s fine, honestly,” Cassie reassures her.

“What happened?” Rachel asks sadly, and Cassie feels a rush of shame at the worry in her eyes.

“I just lost it,” she shrugs. “You left, and you know…”

“Cassie, I had to leave,” Rachel tells her.

“I know!” replies Cassie. “I’m not saying… Look, I know it was my fault okay. And I… oh god Rachel, there aren’t words in the English language to express how sorry I am,” she tells her earnestly, and Rachel nods, looking down at her fingers.

“I just don’t know why you did it,” she says sadly, kind of frowning at Cassie.

Cassie takes a deep breath.

“I was terrified.”

“Of what?”

“Of how in love with you I was,” Cassie says, and the look on Rachel’s face at those words stops her heart.

“Were you really?” Rachel asks tearfully.

“Yes,” Cassie assures her simply, taking a shaky breath. “I was just too much of a mess to deal with it.”

“What changed?” asks Rachel softly, with wide, compassionate eyes.

“I don’t know,” Cassie tells her honestly. “I guess… I just got tired of my entire life revolving around one mistake.”

Rachel pauses contemplatively, and then says, “You can’t change your past, but you can let go… and start your future.”

Cassie laughs softly, closing her eyes, but the sentiment’s sweet, even if it’s presented in a typically dramatic Rachel form.

“Ok then, Schwimmer,” she smiles, and all of the tension just falls away.

“A very special woman once said that to me,” Rachel tells her.

“Someone I should be jealous of?” Cassie teases, but there’s no truth behind it, and Rachel smiles coyly.

“I think the only thing you have to be jealous of,” she says in a low voice, “Is my _well­ used_ fingers from the past 6 months.”

Cassie’s mouth actually goes _dry_ and she just stares at the fingers Rachel waves teasingly, images of Rachel writhing in her bed covers flashing through her mind.

And, apparently, right across her face, because Rachel’s eyes have darkened about 120%, and she’s smirking like a Cheshire cat.

Rachel leans forward, and says, “Shall I make dinner?”

Cassie fucking _hates_ her.

*

It kind of happens accidentally.

They’re just clearing up their plates and teasing each other and their laughter’s echoing round Cassie’s loft in a way which makes it feel so much warmer than it has in months, and Cassie would honestly be happy to just spend so many more evenings like this, enjoying having Rachel here with her so _much_.

She glances across at Rachel and sees her sort of humming a tune to herself and she just grins, completely and utterly besotted. Rachel feels her stare and turns round, then catches the sight of Cassie’s expression and blushes, smiling back. Cassie doesn’t look away, and Rachel’s eyes darken, and then they’re walking towards each other and Cassie wraps her arms around Rachel and she leans her mouth up to meet Cassie’s instinctively.

Cassie presses Rachel back into the kitchen counter as they kiss, moaning as Rachel’s hands snake up her back and into her hair. Cassie presses her leg up between Rachel’s, and she gasps, grinning wickedly up at her.

“When you said… ‘you’re gonna get it’, was this actually what you meant all along?” Rachel asks teasingly.

“Mmm,” Cassie laughs in a murmur, smiling at Rachel. “Well I guess I was right on both counts,” she says in a low voice, brushing her lips against Rachel’s.

Rachel kind of breathes into her, arching her neck up to meet Cassie’s mouth, and Cassie just loses herself in the kiss, utterly intent on reclaiming everything she’s lost over the past six months.

Cassie walks Rachel backwards towards her room, both of them laughing and stumbling in between kisses. She pushes Rachel lightly down onto her bed, and Rachel promptly shimmies back to the pillows, smouldering up at Cassie.

“Do you remember…” she says in a low voice.

“I do,” replies Cassie huskily, smiling softly.

“Come here,” Rachel tells her gently, and Cassie’s smile grows even wider almost in disbelief at how much she loves this woman.

They take what seems like a lifetime gently peeling off each other’s clothes, kissing forgotten skin and healing each other’s wounds. Cassie feels like she’s jumping into the abyss, every emotion she has leaking out of her in her touch, her kiss, her moan; but Rachel’s right there to catch her, staring up at her with those deep eyes, utterly unwavering in her love.

They move entirely together, smiling and stroking and gasping. The whole world could be collapsing around them and Cassie would neither know nor care because her world is here, right here, beginning and ending with the feel of Rachel’s strong fingers deep inside her, the brush of her lips against her neck, the whispers of her love in Cassie’s ear as they crash over the edge.

*

The sun’s setting as they lie entangled in bed, the red glow dancing off their skin as Cassie runs her fingers softly over Rachel’s back.

“Please never, ever go,” she says contentedly.

“Mm,” Rachel hums, “Never.”

Cassie presses a soft kiss against her mouth, smiling into her lips.

“Although if you plan on seducing me again at 6am…” Rachel teases, and Cassie bursts into giggles.

“I can’t believe you messed with me that much!” Rachel says, whacking her on the arm.

“I know, I feel so bad!” laughs Cassie, attempting a contrite smile, but Rachel just rolls her eyes, grinning.

“You know I stayed up all night rehearsing, I was so determined to impress you,” says Rachel, and she looks down at Cassie’s chest as she blushes. Cassie’s heart swells.

“Well…” she says in a low voice, wrapping her arms round Rachel. “You can always give me a private viewing if you want.”

Rachel looks up at her through her lashes, smirking.

“Oh really?” she teases.

“Mmhmm,” murmurs Cassie seriously. “But you should know I prefer my _private_ dancers to be free of any… clothing constraints.”

Rachel’s eyes widen and she licks her lips.

“I think that can be arranged,” she smoulders.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rachel’s shimmying her ass along to the music so completely carefree that Cassie can’t help but pause in the doorway and watch her for a moment. She’s distantly aware that the smile forming on her lips is making her look like a lovesick idiot, but she doesn’t have the energy to care when Rachel’s this happy, and it’s because of her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is pretty different to every other chapter so far, which is basically why it's so short. It was kind of risky, so please let me know what you think at the end.

So.

They’re lying on Cassie’s bed lazily making out, Rachel running her tongue along Cassie’s teeth as she squeezes the thigh wrapped around her waist. Cassie’s hips tilt upwards as she gasps, and Rachel takes the opportunity to nibble at her lip, pulling it back between her teeth as she teases Cassie. They’re kissing like two horny teens but somehow Rachel’s still unravelling Cassie, leaving her breathless and borderline _dumbstruck_ as she smoulders down at her.

“God you’re good at this,” husks Cassie, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Rachel’s ear, and Rachel blushes. Her hand trails down behind Rachel’s neck to pull her mouth back toward her, then further, skating down her back to grab at her ass. Rachel’s legs part instinctively as she groans and moves down to straddle Cassie, pressing their crotches together.

“Well, I’ve had a good teacher,” gasps Rachel, pressing open mouthed kisses down Cassie’s neck as Cassie chuckles lowly. She runs her tongue along Cassie’s throbbing pulse then sucks _hard_ , and Cassie hisses, digging her nails into Rachel.

“What _are_ your students going to say?” Rachel asks primly as she licks over the stinging skin that Cassie _knows_ is going to be purple by tomorrow morning.

(She doesn’t mind a bit.)

“Does that get you off Schwimmer?” Cassie asks breathlessly. “Knowing that I’m marked. Knowing that every student in that room is going to take one look at my neck and see I’m getting _fucked_.”

Rachel groans into her so hard Cassie’s pretty sure she’s going to come then and there, rocking their crotches together as she pulls their bodies even closer. She leans over Cassie, brushing their lips tantalising together as she murmurs, “Oh _god_ you’re getting fucked,” before kissing her fiercely.

They crash together, fighting for dominance like they have been this past week, like they’re still playing and learning their way around each other. Cassie’s tongue snakes into Rachel’s mouth, drawing Rachel’s into her own before she sucks _hard_ and Rachel nearly collapses on top of her. Cassie takes the chance to push her knee up between Rachel’s legs and Rachel groans loudly into her mouth.

“You’re getting so fucked,” she mumbles, squeezing possessively at Cassie’s breast to emphasise her point. “So fucked you’re gonna walk into that classroom, and all you’re gonna think about is _me_.”

“Is that a bet?” Cassie challenges her, but the effect’s kind of ruined when Rachel’s fingers brush over her crotch and her voice crumbles. Rachel smirks.

“Babe that’s a promise.”

Rachel’s fingers stroke teasingly through Cassie as she nudges her skimpy black cardigan aside and licks at the exposed nipple. Cassie hums, arching gently up into her. Rachel’s nail scrapes over Cassie’s clit and Cassie actually _whines_ , beads of sweat appearing on her forehead.

“Schwimmer…”

“So many times I’ve wanted you to walk over and just throw me against the piano,” Rachel teases, lightly dipping her fingers into Cassie as she strokes back and forth. “Remember when I turned up in the New Year?”

Cassie’s reply is a strangled groan as she pushes her hips fruitlessly against Rachel’s hand.

“Remember when you took me on the desk?” Rachel whispers, nibbling Cassie’s ear lobe. “And those students walked in and I was so fucked _anyone_ could see I was yours.”

She rubs her thumb in slow circles over Cassie’s clit and Cassie _cries_.

“ _Yes_ , oh god…”

“That’s what it’s gonna be like when you walk in that classroom in a week’s time,” Rachel tells her, before sliding two fingers into Cassie who honest to god _sobs._ Wet noises echo around them as Rachel fucks her, leaning forward to use the fall weight of her body and husking teasingly in Cassie’s ear.

“Everyone’s gonna know that you’re mine,” she says as she slams her hand into Cassie’s body.

“Oh my god Rachel,” Cassie moans, wrapping her legs tightly round Rachel’s waist as her nails scrape painfully down Rachel’s back.

“You’re mine,” Rachel repeats, as she drives Cassie closer, and _god_ she just gets hotter every time. “And all you’re gonna see when you look over at that piano is me between your legs. All you’re gonna feel is my fingers inside you.”

Rachel curls her fingers in emphasis and Cassie’s body starts to shake, tightening around Rachel.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she screams, writhing underneath her.

“Fuck,” groans Rachel, at the sight of Cassie’s wild, panting body as she rubs her thumb in tight circles over her clit.

Cassie screams as she comes, rocking violently against Rachel as she grips desperately onto her. Rachel slams into her, riding Cassie’s leg as she drags her out, revelling in the feel of Cassie unravelling beneath her.

“Fuck,” groans Cassie, as she comes back to earth and Rachel’s fingers slow to a halt. Rachel collapses on top of Cassie, fingers still inside of her as she nestles into her chest. Cassie’s arms wrap lovingly around Rachel as she catches her breath.

“I am yours, you know,” Cassie tells her softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I know,” says Rachel happily, looking up at her with a smile. “And I trust that you’re not going to go off with any other man… or woman… no matter how much they smoulder at you in your class.”

Cassie hums in amusement, playing gently with Rachel’s hair.

“But I _do_ quite like the idea of you being marked,” Rachel tells her, and god she can feel herself getting turned on again _already_ , and Rachel’s fingers still pressed inside of her are not helping that.

“Do you think… people will talk?” Rachel asks, sounding suddenly nervous.

“About me and you?” replies Cassie. “Who would guess?”

But even as she says it she mentally replays the expressions of her students when she’d asked them to prepare for a 6am party for her most hated pupil, and she bites her lip.

“Although… it might be nice if we went away for a bit? You know, get out of the city away from the gossip and the stares.”

“That sounds nice,” Rachel sighs, burrowing contentedly into her. “I need something to distract me from waiting for my call, anyway.”

“Oh well,” says Cassie in a low voice, running her fingers up Rachel’s spine. “I think I can help with that.”

*

Lucian lends them his condo on Long Island, and somewhat more reluctantly, his car.

“I know what you’re like when you’re excitable. You’ll disappear for 5 weeks and then phone me up and tell me you’re both in New Mexico.”

Rachel’s pleased though.

“Oh my _god_!” she cries, clapping her hands when Cassie comes to pick her up. “Are you serious?!”

Cassie smirks.

“You like?” she teases, taking Rachel’s luggage from her.

They race down the freeway, singing loudly and obnoxiously along to the radio. Rachel grins at Cassie, clasping their hands together on the console, and Cassie’s heart swells.

Lucian’s condo is _ridiculous_. Yeah, she lives in Soho, but that’s only like the last five years; and it’s not like the rest of her life is extravagant.

(She remembers the first time she met Lucian’s mother, lounging around in her Upper East Side penthouse with a Martini in hand, completely unconcerned at being a walking divorcee caricature.

A pretty long way from the farm in Kansas where her mother was breaking her back just to keep Cassie fed.)

She’s never had the energy to be jealous over Lucian’s casual privilege, though, not when she’s had so many more important things to be bitter about.

(And now, it’s just kind of cute how in awe Rachel is.)

“Your life is just – ridiculous,” laughs Rachel, shaking her head as she walks through the door Cassie’s holding open.

Still, it takes her a grand total of three minutes to adjust to her new surroundings.  Fucking princess.

Later that evening, they curl up on the patio sofas with a bottle of champagne Cassie produces from nowhere.

(And Rachel’s face when she does it – it’s this kind of surprised wonderment she gets whenever Cassie does anything romantic, like she’s starting to believe in fairy tales again.)

“Cheers,” Rachel says, clinking their glasses together.

“Cheers,” Cassie smiles.

Cassie watches as Rachel bites her lip, looking like words are bubbling up inside her that she can’t quite swallow down.

(Cassie knows what they are, but _god_ her heart hammers in fear.)

But Rachel just smiles, sipping her drink and nestling into her as they watch the sun set.

*

Rachel’s dancing round the kitchen to _Uptight_ and making pancakes when Cassie wakes up. It’s 8am and it’s a fucking _holiday_ , but the candyfloss cloud she feels like she’s living in absorbs her irritation.

And Rachel is fucking _adorable_.

“Baby, everything is alright, uptight, uh huh uh huh huh yeah…”

She’s shimmying her ass along to the music so completely carefree that Cassie can’t help but pause in the doorway and watch her for a moment. She’s distantly aware that the smile forming on her lips is making her look like a lovesick idiot, but she doesn’t have the energy to care when Rachel’s this happy, and it’s because of _her_.

“Do you sing that song every morning, Schwim?” Cassie teases softly, and Rachel sort of jumps and glares mid-turn. It’s impressive. “I mean, I know it’s not 6am…”

Rachel’s face breaks out into a giggle, and she pokes Cassie playfully.

“I have _still_ not forgiven you for that.”

“Is that so?” murmurs Cassie, wrapping her arms around Rachel’s waist.

“Yep,” says Rachel. “In fact, I’m preparing my revenge as we speak.”

Cassie snorts softly.

*

A long, ridiculously relaxing bath later and Rachel drags a reluctant Cassie out down to the beach. It’s not that she doesn’t _like_ the sea, they’re just a bit too fucking close to the Hamptons for her liking, plus they totally can’t do it in public without getting arrested.

Rachel doesn’t seem concerned about any of this, and flops down on her towel with sunglasses and headphones.

( _Not_ before making Cassie rub her back meticulously with sunblock, and she’s not sure whether or not this is part of Rachel’s revenge, but she makes her _really_ fucking regret dragging them away from the privacy of Lucian’s condo.)

Overly preppy families aside, it’s actually a really nice day. Cassie can’t even remember the last time she’s been near a beach without feeling immensely bitter, and the sight of Rachel lying blissfully on the sand next to her negates the memories of at least the last three years of boozy Spanish exploits.

Cassie kind of wants to take Rachel out for dinner, but it’s just _too soon_ , and the thought of holding hands across the table surrounded by judgemental mothers makes her break out in hives. So Cassie cooks instead, which totally works because Rachel is incredibly easily pleased, thanks to her own sub-par culinary skills, and she basically swoons every time Cassie makes any gesture at romance.

It’s all going swimmingly until they sit down with a bottle of wine after dinner, and their talk turns uncomfortably – and inevitably – to their plans for next year.

“I don’t know if I can go back to NYADA,” Cassie says slowly.

“What?” asks Rachel in shock.

“It’s too much of a risk,” Cassie shrugs.

“Cassie, you can’t… you can’t do that for me, ok?! That’s your _job_ ,” Rachel says incredulously. “And I might not even get the part…”

“Rachel, it’s not just this one part,” Cassie tells seriously, trying her best not to sound patronising but god she’s still so young and she just can’t _see_. “You have your whole career ahead of you, and this kind of scandal could ruin that.”

“Look you’re not even my teacher anymore, okay, so you’re just being unnecessarily self-sacrificing. I’ve thought this through!” Rachel insists, and Cassie rolls her eyes.

“Really, Rachel?” she says sharply. “Have you thought about the photographers hounding you everywhere you go? The phone calls night and day? The headlines plastered everywhere you go about how you _fucked_ your way into NYADA?”

“I can deal with it,” says Rachel stubbornly, not meeting Cassie’s eyes.

“No you _can’t_ ,” Cassie insists angrily. “You have _no_ idea what you’re dealing with.”

“Well you clearly have no idea how much I want to be with you!” shouts Rachel tearfully, eyes flashing as she leaps up and storms out of the room.

Cassie sinks back against the sofa, running her hand through her hair, and she _knew_ they were going to fight sooner or later but… god it sucks.

*

Cassie finds Rachel an hour or so later, huddled by the pool. The night lights are dancing off her hair as she runs her toes sadly through the water.

“I brought you a blanket,” Cassie tells her softly, offering it to her. When Rachel does nothing, Cassie represses a sigh, and hesitantly wraps it around Rachel’s shoulders. She doesn’t push her away, so Cassie comes to sit down next to her.

They sit in silence for a moment, the only sounds the gentle wash of water, and crickets in the background.

“I’m sorry for yelling, Schwim,” Cassie tells her honestly. Rachel sighs.

“Well, I think actually it was me who yelled,” she admits, and Cassie smiles slightly.

“It’s never going to be easy,” Cassie says truthfully.

“I know,” replies Rachel, leaning her head against Cassie’s shoulder. “And not just because we drive each other nuts.”

Cassie laughs.

“In the _best_ way, though,” she teases, wrapping her arm round Rachel, who snuggles gratefully into her side.

“I guess we just have to take it _really_ slowly and… confront the challenges as we meet them,” Rachel says.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” says Cassie, wondering how with ten years her junior Rachel is sometimes so goddamn mature.

“I just… I want us to be equal. I don’t want you to give up everything for me and then resent it and end up hating me…”

“Rachel, I’m not giving up everything,” Cassie reassures her, laughing softly. “I’ll find another job. I am pretty good at what I do,” she adds dryly, and Rachel rolls her eyes.

“Debatable.”

“You know I could push you right in…” Cassie warns her.

“Oh really?”

“How do you feel about skinny dipping?” Cassie asks suggestively, and Rachel barely has time to look up before Cassie’s dragging her into the pool.

“Oh my _god_!” laughs Rachel as she surfaces, pushing wet hair out of her eyes. Cassie’s laughing wildly opposite her, already peeling off her top.

“Come on, Schwim!” she says, bouncing towards her and running her hands up Rachel’s sides.

“You’re awful!” Rachel giggles, kissing her warmly.

“Mm,” hums Cassie, snaking her hands over Rachel’s ass.

(She totally is. But Rachel turns out to be a total water baby, and reaches places inside Cassie she never even _knew_ about.

It’s 100% worth the sneezing she wakes up with the next day.)

*

Rachel’s singing along to M.I.A.  and it’s _hilarious_ because she’s basically the most innocent, uptight bad girl Cassie’s ever met.

“Schwim, what’s the baddest thing you’ve ever done?” Cassie asks her, sauntering over.

“Umm,” ponders Rachel, flopping down onto the sofa. “One time, Kurt, Santana and I got really drunk and broke into NYADA?” she offers hesitantly, looking slightly scared.

“Seriously?” says Cassie, coming to sit down next to her, but her surprise is more at NYADA’s apparently lax security system. She pulls a face. “No, come on, tell me something good.”

“Okay, well,” begins Rachel. “At the beginning of Junior year this _incredibly_ talented girl wanted to audition for Glee club and I… may have thrown her off somewhat.”

Cassie smirks.

“What did you do, Schwim?”

“I sent her to a crack house,” admits Rachel, scrunching her eyes closed in shame.

“Oh my _god!”_ exclaims Cassie, laughing in disbelief. “You are – oh my god, I don’t even know what to say!”

“Oh my god are you going to break up with me,” says Rachel seriously, and Cassie totally forgets to freak out to that reference of them being in an _actual relationship_ because she’s too busy trying to breathe.

“I’m sorry, I just,” she says in between hysterics, “You are such a hypocrite.”

“I never said I was perfect!” says Rachel indignantly, and it’s somehow even funnier how she totally doesn’t get it.

(Rachel’s _Oops_ performance suddenly makes _so_ much more sense.)

“Sometimes my jealousy just gets the better of me,” Rachel says, looking a little too sad for Cassie’s liking.

“Oh no, Schwim, I didn’t mean,” Cassie begins. “I just never thought you’d take your competitive edge so far. I’m kind of impressed, actually.”

“Really?” says Rachel with a small smile.

“Yeah, but don’t try that again anytime soon. Not with anyone who doesn’t deserve it, anyway.”

Rachel smirks.

“What were you like when you were younger?” Rachel asks her inquisitively, leaning her elbow on the sofa. Cassie shrugs awkwardly, avoiding Rachel’s eyes. She changes tack.

“Ok, what was your _baddest_ moment in college, then?”

Cassie bites her lip, thinking, then breaks out into a smile and hums happily.

“When I was 18, and I’d just arrived at NYADA, my theatre teacher was the _worst_ – she was this old, bitter woman with horrible dyed black hair and cigarette breath, who insisted on breaking into a half hour performance every time you did _anything_ wrong. Which, for me, was every five minutes,” Cassie adds darkly, and Rachel grins.

“This sounds weirdly familiar,” she teases, and Cassie glares playfully.

“And my friends convinced me to grease the floor of our classroom… so when she turned on this kid, it wasn’t even _me_ , but she burst into this monologue, Macbeth I think, and anyway she’s storming about, waving her arms madly, and she turns on her heel and just _crashes_ to the floor...”

“Oh my _god_ ,” laughs Rachel, bringing her hands up to her mouth.

“And she broke her collar bone,” Cassie tells her, trying – and failing – not to smirk. “And she was out for the whole term. She was convinced I’d done something, everyone in the class vouched for me, so…” Cassie shrugs, looking a little smug.

“You must have been really popular,” Rachel says.

“Yeah, I guess,” muses Cassie. “I think it was more I had a tough crowd around me. But they were kind of a bad influence, you know. And after my mum…” Cassie bites her lip. “Well, it was just me and Lucian in the end.”

“Yeah, how did you guys meet?” Rachel asks softly.

“He was my Freshman dance partner,” Cassie says happily. “He was so awful, and I took pity on him,” she laughs. “And he helped me with my essays. I was _never_ very good with words.”

“Oh, god, I can’t tell you how much I would love to _never_ have to take another writing workshop class again,” Rachel replies, rolling her eyes. She falls silent, playing with her fingers.

“No news is good news, Schwim,” Cassie tells her gently, nudging her shoulder.

“Why are you so optimistic?” Rachel asks her, looking confused. “It’s so unlike you.”

“Because I believe in you,” says Cassie seriously. “There’s something about you, Rachel. You make me feel like anything in the world is possible. And I _know_ , I know the directors will feel like that too. You just… you move people when you sing.”

Rachel’s staring at her with these incredulous, tear-filled eyes, and Cassie wonders if she’s somehow said the completely wrong thing; but then Rachel’s mouth breaks into a tremulous smile. Cassie’s heart sings, and she smiles back, and watches as Rachel leans forward to press their lips gently together.

“I love you,” she whispers, and Cassie’s breath catches in her throat. She feels Rachel freeze, then start to pull away. Cassie brings her hand up to Rachel’s cheek to catch her, desperately trying to reassure Rachel with her eyes but god she _knows_ she looks terrified.

(And that’s ridiculous because Rachel knows, she’s told Rachel a thousand times in different ways already, but somehow _saying_ it…)

“I… I love you too.”

Rachel’s eyes widen slightly, and she pauses just for a moment like she’s trying to believe what Cassie just said, and then she smiles like she’s been waiting years to hear those words.

(And honestly, just for a moment, Cassie feels like she’s been waiting a lifetime to tell her. Like every moment, every success and every wrong turn led to right here, with this ridiculous, perfect girl sitting opposite her and _god_ she’s never been so happy in her entire life.)

“God, I’m really glad you said that,” Rachel laughs, and throws her arms around Cassie. Cassie smiles, nuzzling into Rachel’s shoulder, and lets herself sink into the feeling of _home_.

*

She knows Rachel’s been keeping her emotions pretty restrained up until this point, in an effort not to terrify Cassie and – yeah, she appreciates it. But since Cassie’s opened up enough to admit she does actually _love_ Rachel, it’s like a dam has sort of broken between them.

They’re lying on a blanket under the stars, surrounded by the rich perfume of the evening flowers, Rachel snuggling into Cassie’s side as Cassie plays lazily with her hair.

(It’s one of her favourite things, because Rachel’s hair is just so soft and thick and it always flows all over Cassie’s thighs when Rachel’s going down on her and… yeah, she loves her hair.)

“I keep thinking about when I was applying to NYADA,” Rachel says suddenly, “And I had this vision of what my life would be like if I went, but god I just had no idea.”

“What did you think it would be like?” Cassie asks her, a vague image of the young, naïve Rachel she knew from a year ago standing in an unknown school somewhere, and suddenly she has this burning desire to know everything about this previous Rachel.

“I don’t know,” says Rachel contemplatively. “I didn’t think everyone would be so…”

“Mean?”

Rachel laughs.

“No, I knew they’d be mean, I just didn’t think I’d have to change or adapt. I guess I just thought I’d carry on like I always have done, and everyone would fall into place.”

Cassie stays silent, running her hands through Rachel’s curls.

“And then I met you. And I just… I think about how I was, how much I was missing out on… and god what if I hadn’t applied here? What if Carmen had never let me in? I would have never have met you and I just, I can’t bear it…”

Rachel’s voice cracks, and Cassie pulls her more tightly in.

“Rachel, what’s this about?” she asks gently, brushing her lips against Rachel’s head.

“I just, I nearly got _married_ ,” Rachel says, tearfully and Cassie’s heart skips a beat because _what_? “And it’s only now that I’m here with you that I’m realising how close we came to not having this, and I just want you to know… “ Rachel swallows audibly. “I just want you to know how much better my life is with you than anything I could ever _possibly_ have imagined.”

Cassie honestly does not know _what_ to say, because her heart just feels like it’s about to explode with love, so she just settles for squeezing Rachel as tightly as possible.

“Are you ok?” Rachel sniffles, wriggling round to look down at her. Cassie stares back kind of dumbstruck, and honestly how did she _ever_ get so lucky as to have someone so amazing love her so much.

“Yeah, I… yeah,” she croaks. The only sensible thing to do seems to be to wrap her hand round Rachel’s neck and pull her mouth towards her. She can taste the salty tears on Rachel’s lips, running her tongue lightly along them. Something fiercely protective twinges in her heart and she just _never_ wants Rachel to ever hurt again. She envelops her arms around Rachel’s tiny body like she needs to keep the entire world away, because _honestly_ , this girl is the most special thing to ever exist.

*

“So, Schwimmer, about this time you almost hitched your stars to some backward hick from Iowa,” Cassie begins the next morning, plonking a steaming mug of coffee in front of Rachel.

She looks up from her laptop, scowling at Cassie, and then rolls her eyes, sighing.

“Have I met him?” Cassie asks casually, but honestly she’s relishing every minute of this, and Rachel knows.

(Her enthusiasm is totally nothing to do with jealousy, at all, she’s just nosy about this _hilarious_ skeleton Rachel’s been keeping in her closet.)

“Do you really want to know the answer to that?” she asks her, and maybe Cassie’s enjoying teasing her a little too much to hear the warning note in her voice, because she just prods her along, grinning.

“It was Finn,” Rachel says simply. The smile dies on Cassie’s lips. “You see why I didn’t tell you!” Rachel says instantly, looking worried.

“Yeah, I kind of wish you hadn’t,” Cassie says darkly, leaning back into the sofa.

“Look, it’s not a big deal, okay!” Rachel rambles. “We were young, and in love, and _really_ scared. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Which I know it _obviously_ wasn’t…”

“Schwim, it’s okay,” says Cassie, holding up a hand. She shakes her head to try and get rid of the buzzing but seriously she can’t even think straight because that _idiot boy_? She blurts the first fully-formed thought out of her mind which is, “Did you really love him _that_ much?”

Rachel gapes, shrugging.

“At the time, I thought that’s what real love was.”

Cassie’s eyes drop at the implication, and she doesn’t know whether it makes her feel better or worse.

Whatever - she dug this whole entirely herself, and she has no right to go around making Rachel feel guilty about it.

“When I was 16 I left my hometown in Kansas - and I say town, but it was really a couple of farms hours from civilization – to go to stage school in Manhattan,” she tells Rachel. “It was crazy, I was on my own in this tiny shoebox apartment in Brooklyn, _terrified_ , surrounded by the best and brightest of baby Broadway, and I had _no_ idea what I was doing,” Cassie laughs.

“Are you _serious_?” replies Rachel in disbelief. “You left home at 16 to come to New York _on your own_?”

Rachel’s looking at her with this kind of rapt amazement, and, yeah – it’s been a long time since she’s thought about her old life, but she feels a twinge of pride.

“Well, my mum was paying most of my rent, and obviously I had the support of my school, but – yeah.”

“So you really were a wide-eyed ingénue,” Rachel teases, and Cassie snorts.

“Oh Schwim, I was so much worse than you,” Cassie admits, grinning reluctantly.

“Were you really nice and sweet and innocent?” Rachel asks, tongue between her teeth, and Cassie glares.

It’s kind of okay after that.

*

Cassie reluctantly drives them home at the end of the week. Rachel waves sadly goodbye to the condo, and it’s kind of silly and adorable, but also sort of apt; because so much has transpired between them in the past week she feels kind of _attached_ to their little haven, the home of what was probably the happiest week of her life.

“Cassie, are you crying?” Rachel asks her, sounding slightly bemused.

“No, it’s just… the wind,” Cassie says brusquely, brushing her eyes quickly. Rachel smiles, and comes over to wrap her arms round Cassie.

“I love you,” she says sweetly, pressing her lips against Cassie’s. “You’re adorable.”

(Cassie has literally not been called ‘adorable’ since she was about thirteen.

She sort of loves it.)

Their actual goodbye, in front of Rachel’s Bushwick loft, is pretty bittersweet. They’ve come so far in just a week, and when Cassie looks down at Rachel and sees the unfettered trust and confidence she has in her, she knows they’ve built something solid.

But they’re never going to have another week like it; a honeymoon away from reality where all they have is each other, without any of the worries of practicalities of making their relationship work.

Rachel gets it.

“This was really special, wasn’t it?” she says, kind of melancholy, stroking Cassie’s arm.

“Yeah,” replies Cassie softly. “It was.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Cassie wakes up the next day and everything’s completely normal. She reminds herself she’s in a relationship as she peels open her eyes, but her bedroom looks exactly the same as it did last night. She pulls on her shorts and jogs out into the early morning sun, and the city still smells of trash and occasionally fresh coffee. She watches her fellow New Yorkers carefully as she runs past them, but no one seems to be looking at her differently. No one can actually tell that her life is suddenly dramatically different._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know how people have the patience to still care about this story. You're all fab. I wish I could write something longer as a gift, but alas, this story writes itself.

So.

Cassie wakes up the next day and everything’s completely normal. She reminds herself she’s in a relationship as she peels open her eyes, but her bedroom looks exactly the same as it did last night. She pulls on her shorts and jogs out into the early morning sun, and the city still smells of trash and occasionally fresh coffee. She watches her fellow New Yorkers carefully as she runs past them, but no one seems to be looking at her differently. No one can actually tell that her life is suddenly dramatically different.

It terrifies her so much she can basically think about as far ahead as the next day, so that’s what she does.

Her summer classes start that morning, which gives her a faint sense of normality and structure. And, yeah, every inch of NYADA reminds her of Rachel, but she’s got some kind of work to focus on. Her students are - _god_ , hopeless doesn’t even cover it; but that’s what happens when there’s no rigorous admissions process, and it’s not like she wasn’t prepared.

Cassie’s reputation proceeds her, and the students stand nervously round the room like awkward, shaking newborn foals. She usually takes an extra bite at her summer students, because she’s tired and bitter and hot in the city summer, and all these privileged kids are going to do when this is over is run back to the parents funding them. They’re never going near a stage. But there’s something settling inside her chest - it’s been there for a few months now, but she’s only just starting to become aware of it - and so she puts her students through a rigorous set of floor exercises in the centre, and walks between the rows carefully adjusting their technique.

One of the students even thanks her, when she leaves.

(The girl has long brown hair and is a little too eager. Cassie blinks for a few seconds, before murmuring her thanks.)

*

She returns Lucian’s car and keys to him in one piece.

“Hmm,” Lucian says, eyeing her suspiciously as she hands them to him. Cassie rolls her eyes.

“I washed everything, I promise,” she sing songs as she saunters through the doorway, and Lucian closes his eyes in horror.

“I mean, I couldn’t really wash the couches, but…”

(She is 100% done with him getting the upper hand with his patronising smarminess.)

“Okay, point made,” says Lucian, holding up his hands in defeat. “You’re in a real grown up relationship now, and I bow to your maturity.”

“Fuck off,” smirks Cassie, picking at some grapes in his fruit bowl.

“Seriously. I’ve been having some real problems with Jonathan lately, can you offer some advice?” Lucian asks.

“Honestly, slip something in his drink, because that boy is so uptight you’re not getting so much as a toothpick up there-“

Lucian throws a cushion.

“I hate you when you’re in a good mood.”

Cassie laughs as she cowers behind the kitchen counter.

“Haven’t you had a full day of classes, as well?” Lucian shouts.

“Hey, I had a lot of orgasms last week.”

“Lesbians. They just keep on going,” Lucian muses, pouring some wine.

Cassie snorts.

“What? You shared a lot in college. Oh come on, this’ll be great,” Lucian says, reaching across the table. “It’ll be just like Tisch. Share stories about your hazardous girlfriends, cry over heartbreaks. I’m so excited.”

Cassie shoots him a Medusa glare, and like, she’s not actually annoyed, but Lucian knows when to knock it off.

“Those girls _barely_ qualified as relationships,” Cassie says, running a finger round the rim of her glass. “Rachel’s, you know, she’s different,” she adds quietly.

“Cassie, not wanting to rehash the last 9 months… but she’s already seen you at your worst. I really don’t think there are many more ways in which you can fuck this up,” Lucian tells her gently. “Permanently, at least.”

Cassie rolls her eyes again, brushing her hair from her face.

“I just… I haven’t done this a while. I mean, is dating even the same as ten years ago?”

“I’ve been with the same man for eight years. I’ve got no idea,” Lucian tells her, sipping his wine. Cassie sighs, frowning.

*

So Lucian is semi-useless, but she gets a faint sense of wariness from him, so maybe it’s deliberate.

(And, I mean, she has kind of learnt to walk on her own two feet, now.)

She texts Rachel later that evening, and actually hangs over her phone for a solid ten minutes until she gets a reply.

_I’m free tomorrow. What are you thinking about?_

Cassie smirks.

_Generally? You. Naked. But specifically - tomorrow evening, my couch._

She can almost _feel_ the eye roll.

(And the squirming smirk.)

_Who knew romance was so alive in the depths of Soho._

_If I offered dinner would you bring the candles?_

_You’ve won me over, Romeo. See you at 8?_

_Don’t be late. I have plans._

_*_

Cassie’s done this a thousand times before - Rachel was round at her loft so much summer term she basically moved in, as Lucian brutally pointed out, and like, she cooked for her _all_ last week.

But that really doesn’t explain why she’s spilled two glasses of wine on the floor already _and_ burnt the pasta, and is sweating so much she feels like she’s back in church.

(Is it really a first date when you’ve had more orgasms from that person than anybody else combined?)

Rachel turns up exactly ten minutes past eight. They grin at each other awkwardly across the doorstep for a few seconds, before Rachel lets out a breathy, “Hey.”

“Hey,” replies Cassie. She steps back and Rachel comes in, and she’s completely lost as to what she’s supposed to do next, but then Rachel rises up on her tiptoes and presses a gentle kiss to her lips.

“I cooked,” says Cassie, when Rachel pulls away.

“Oh?” smiles Rachel. “Am I in for a treat or a poisoning?”

Cassie rolls her eyes, and some of the tension dissipates. She closes the door behind Rachel, and takes a deep breath.

“How was your day?” Rachel asks, as they move over towards the counter.

“I found some new students to terrorise,” Cassie tells her, as she reaches for the wine. She instantly regrets her comment, because it’s not even true.

“That’s nice,” says Rachel. Cassie doesn’t reply.

“Cheers,” she says, clinking their glasses.

“To first dates,” smiles Rachel. Their eyes meet over the rims and Cassie’s heart skitters. She feels this familiar warm, nervous energy bubbling up inside her, and there’s no way on earth she’s going to be able to eat a thing,

_Shit_.

“Shit!”

Cassie whips round and pulls the pasta off the stove. It’s _just_ about okay, but she can feel her cheeks flaming.

“You okay?” asks Rachel, moving up behind her and brushing a hand against her waist.

“Yeah, just - yeah.”

“Hey,” says Rachel, tugging on her waist and pulling Cassie round to face her. “I’ve seen you… throwing up over a toilet, okay? We know each other. _Relax_.”

“ _Not_ really the image I was going for, Schwim,” Cassie winces, and Rachel smiles ruefully.

They move their pasta and wine to the counter and sit down opposite each other. Rachel comments on how nice the food is and Cassie twirls some round her fork.

“So what did you teach your students?”

“Erm, you know… just some floor exercises. Things we did at the start of term.”

“Are they worse than us?”

“So much worse.”

Rachel laughs, and they go back to their food.

Shit it’s just so awkward and she doesn’t even know _why._ Cassie never has to find things to say around Rachel; conservation bubbles out of her like a fountain and sweeps Cassie along. Fuck, she's fucking this up _so_ much.

“Are you okay, did you have a bad day?” Rachel asks quietly.

“No, I’m fine!” says Cassie, attempting a bright smile. Rachel falteringly returns it. “Have you heard anything…?”

Rachel shakes her head. Of course she hasn’t; Cassie would be on the receiving end of screams and tears if she had.

“How’s Kurt?”

“Good. He didn’t get the part in a summer program he wanted, so he’s interning full-time for Vogue.”

“Really?”

“Mm,” says Rachel, swallowing a mouthful of food. “You know, sometimes, I think he’ll just give up Broadway and do something in fashion or costume design or something.”

“Hmm,” murmurs Cassie; it’s an interesting proposition, and she’d give it some thought if she wasn’t so goddamn nervous.

Rachel bites her lip, and then jumps up suddenly, and actually _hops_ off the stool.

“What are you doing?” Cassie asks, as Rachel wanders over to her stereo and flicks through some CDs.

She hears a murmur that sounds something like, “dancing,” and moments later Ella Fitzgerald is oozing from her speakers. Rachel turns round and holds out her hand towards Cassie, crooking a finger.

Cassie feels a smile tugging at her lips and maybe she actually _blushes_ a little, but she slides off her stool and saunters over to Rachel, holding her gaze.

“Dance with me?” Rachel whispers.

(And maybe this is part of why she loves her so much - because instantly they’re back in that place and Rachel _knew._ )

Cassie brushes her fingers across Rachel’s palm and hears her breath catch in her throat, before slipping their fingers together and resting her other hand on Rachel’s waist. Rachel looks up at her through long lashes, pulling her best wide-eyed innocent expression and Cassie’s 100% sure she’s being played and in the best way possible.

Their hips move slowly in time together, rolling against each other, Rachel’s crotch brushing hers tantalisingly softly. Cassie doesn’t have to think, at all, because her body knows Rachel’s almost as well as her own - and Rachel knows her language. It’s _theirs._ The energy between them grows, and encircles them in a warm protective blanket.

Cassie smiles softly at Rachel, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She can’t fathom what she was ever worried about; she has no time to worry about anything, actually, when all she wants is to enjoy this moment right here with Rachel _,_ as Rachel leans in to nestle against Cassie.

They stay swaying like that for what feels like hours, Rachel’s head rested on Cassie’s chest as Cassie plays with her hair.

“You know our pasta’s probably cold by now,” Rachel mumbles into her jumper.

“Mm,” murmurs Cassie, because she’s really quite content to stay like this. But then her stomach rumbles loudly, and - “Oh, okay, I’ll go heat it up.”

They take their microwaved meals back to the couch, where they sit eating with their feet tangled together in the middle. Cassie explains her rigorous plan for her students this summer to Rachel, and maybe she’s a little funnier than she used to be, or maybe Rachel’s tickled at the torture she knows the students are going to be put through, but she ends up with ridiculous hiccups - which leads to Cassie trying to stretch her diaphragm out on the sofa, and honestly they’re both so dumb right now, falling over the cushions unable to breathe for laughing at she doesn’t even know what…but it’s so much goddamn _fun_. 

At some point Cassie relocates the bottle of wine, and they sit talking for hours; at least until they get more and more lazy, and Rachel ends up curled around Cassie, and her eyes get darker and darker - and this is probably the best first date she’s ever had.

*

Cassie wakes up on the third day with Rachel wrapped around her stomach. Her hair is lightly tickling her bellybutton, and Cassie’s kind of sweaty, and the familiar smell of sex - _their_ sex - is lingering in the room, and the world still hasn’t imploded.

She cooks Rachel breakfast like the stellar girlfriend that she is, and they grin at each other over coffee and vegan pancakes.

“What?” asks Cassie, biting a smile as she raises her eyebrows at Rachel. Rachel holds her gaze and moves round to the other side of the counter, sliding onto the stall next to her. Then she takes Cassie’s fork and scoops a bite.

“Schwimmer…” says Cassie, the smirk on her face completely ruining her attempt at a warning tone. Rachel grins some more, moving the fork slowly towards Cassie’s mouth. Cassie’s attempting her best don’t-you-fucking-dare expression but then Rachel licks her lips and Cassie’s kind of open on instinct. It’s kind of hot, as Rachel slides the fork back out of her mouth and raises an eyebrow.

“Yum,” she says slowly, licking her lips. When Rachel reaches for the pancakes again, Cassie catches sight of the maple syrup bottle.

(The sticky, sugary mess that ensues is 100% worth it for the sight of syrup trickling down Rachel’s lower stomach.)

*

Honestly, she kind of grins stupidly all week.

(Not in class, obviously, because she has a reputation to maintain; although she does catch herself absent-mindedly twirling her cane at one point, and she muses on all the ways she could put it to good use.)

She would happily spend every evening with Rachel, who has no classes or any summer plans, as yet, and she knows badly need distracting from worrying about Funny Girl. But the image of Rachel screaming over her sofa that she’s clingy still haunts her, and even though they’re several (hundred, on Rachel’s part) apologies and many months of maturity on, she’s still held back by fear. 

(And also Lucian's advice; smarmy ass that he is, he has a track record of being right about her unhealthy traits.)

But Friday night they go dancing.

It’s the first time Cassie’s braved taking Rachel out anywhere public since they actually started - she’s not even sure what to call it. There’s a weird feeling as she queues with Rachel on her arm - it’s a new bar, and she hasn’t had a chance to make acquaintance with the bouncers yet - because they’re surrounded by strangers, and yet Cassie’s got pre-stage jitters like she’s about to make a big announcement.

(There’s also this new, unnerving relief that if anyone catches them, she’s not _actually_ breaking NYADA code anymore - but she knows there’s still so much scandal just waiting to explode around them, which is mostly why they’re so far away from NYADA haunts.)

They finally get inside, and Cassie finds them a seat before heading off to order drinks. The barman asks if the Vodka Rocks is for her as she’s paying, and she replies instinctively.

“No, that’s for - that’s for, er, my date. My girlfriend.”

“Oh, okay ma’am, would you like me to take it to her?”

“Erm. Yes. We’re just over there,” Cassie manages, gesturing at the sofas where Rachel’s waiting. The barman gestures at perfectly-manicured waiter, who carries Rachel’s drink over to her on a tiny silver tray whilst Cassie’s heart is still leaping out of her chest.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the barman says, and when Cassie turns round, he’s pushing a small tumbler towards her.

“Thank you,” she says with an absent smile, and makes her way over to Rachel, unable to help herself from wondering if the waiter outed her secret.

(And - is it a secret? Is it even a _thing_? It’s only been two dates - or six months.

Rachel just beams up at her, and insists they start dancing _immediately_ because her _My Baby Just Cares For Me_ has just started.) 

It’s not until hours later, when they’re curled up in some twilight reality, moonlight filtering over their bodies and on the edge of sleep, that Cassie finds her courage.

“So… I told the waiter tonight, you know when he asked who my second drink was for. I told him you were my girlfriend.”

Rachel lifts her head up slightly to look at Cassie.

“Is that, you know, is that okay?” asks Cassie hesitantly, running her fingers up and down Rachel’s spine. Rachel considers it for a full three seconds, during which Cassie’s heart doesn’t beat once, and then a slow smile appears on her face.

“I mean, it’s only been two dates…” Rachel teases softly, but she’s looking up at Cassie with dark, promising eyes and moving gradually closer. “But if you’re asking…”

“I’m asking,” Cassie husks, wrapping her arms tighter round Rachel. “Schwimmer, will you-“

Rachel doesn’t let her finish her sentence before she kisses her hotly.

(There’s something to be said for taking crazy risks, because it makes for _great_ sex.)

*

Cassie wakes up Sunday morning alone, and feels a sudden, deep pang at the cold side of the bed, until she remembers both she and Rachel had Saturday night plans and Rachel’s probably comatose on Kurt’s chest right now. Cassie smiles, then pads out into her loft, flicking the button on the espresso machine before she begins her morning stretches. The sun’s rays are still pink and dusky as she leans over her legs, and she feels a sudden sense of overwhelming contentment. It takes her by surprise, almost, and she pauses against the cold wooden floor, taking a deep breath.

It’s not until she’s halfway through her Sunday morning run, chest heaving as she pounds through Central Park, that she realises this is the first time she’s ever let contentment overtake her, instead of batting away even whisky tendrils with self-flagellation and guilt. As she rounds the corner and sprints home, she wonders where she ever got so much courage.

*

Cassie gets the call from Rachel around mid-afternoon. She answers her phone to screams and tears, and she’s pretty sure Santana is cheering in Spanish in the background. It takes Rachel a full five minutes to calm down enough to confirm to Cassie what she already knows, and by that time they’re both in tears.

She makes it over to Rachel’s flat in record time, running from the subway to see Rachel hurtling along the sidewalk towards her. Rachel screams, and Cassie screams, and she holds out her arms for Rachel to jump into.

“I got it!” Rachel cries, as Cassie swings her wildly around.

“You did, you did you did!” They’re both laughing through tears. “I told you!” Cassie insists, as she lets Rachel meet the ground again. “I told you,” she says more quietly, as Rachel catches her breath, looking up at her deliriously. “You’re gonna get it. I know you will, Rachel.”


End file.
